


You Belong to Me

by SPowell



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Sweet Revenge, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky's old buddy from Vietnam finds Hutch irresistible. Hutch learns a secret about Starsky that has him re-evaluating where he'd thought they were headed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Belong to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters of Starsky, Hutch, Dobey, and Huggy and anyone else on the 1970's show are not mine. I make no claims to them. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes.

_You belong to me_

_Can it be honey, that you’re not sure_

_You belong to me_

_Thought we’d closed the book—locked the door_

_You don’t have to prove to me that you’re beautiful to strangers_

_I’ve got lovin’ eyes of my own_

_\---“You Belong to Me”_

_Carly Simon/Michael McDonald_

_^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^_

**_You Belong to Me_ **

**_By Susannah Powell_ **

 

  
Starsky watched Leo watching Hutch. The ex-soldier’s long fingers caressed his cigarette, his clear green eyes focusing on the long, vulnerable expanse of Hutch’s neck as he stretched his head back to look at the darkening sky. They sat on the stoop outside Starsky’s apartment, shooting the breeze before Hutch took off for home, and Starsky wondered how his partner could be so oblivious to Leo’s attention. But then again, Hutch was frequently oblivious to the admiring stares of men and women alike. Starsky’s own azure gaze dropped to Leo’s groin, where the outline of his arousal could clearly be seen beneath his jeans. Unexpected jealousy coiled in Starsky’s belly, a snake ready to strike, and he quickly looked away, disturbed by his fierce reaction.

“You sure you don’t wanna come up for a beer?” Starsky asked Hutch when he’d gotten a hold of his emotions. He watched the blond stretch languidly— _Christ! Did Leo’s cock just jump in his pants?—_ and step onto the sidewalk.

“Nope. Gotta get home. Nice to meet you, Leo. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Hutch leaned in to shake the man’s hand. Starsky watched the movements as though they were in slow motion. The tanned arm reaching out to the paler arm, tendons stretching, palms meeting, hands clenching and then releasing. Hutch climbed into his latest wreck of a car, waved, and drove off in a spurt of exhaust.

Leo rubbed his hand where Hutch had touched it and whistled low and long. “Doesn’t have much taste in wheels, but what a cool drink of water that partner of yours is!” Grabbing his beer bottle, he stood and followed Starsky up the steps to his front door.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree. Hutch is straight as an arrow,” Starsky told him as he climbed. “And you sure made a spectacle of yourself, drooling over him out on my front stoop.”

Leo chuckled. “What a prude you’ve become, Davey. If that’s what being a cop has done to you, maybe you need a new profession.”

“Hutch is a cop, too,” Starsky reminded him.

“Yeah, and he seems a lot cooler than you. Didn’t seem to bother him that I was enjoying the view.”

“I told you, he’s straight,” Starsky opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the lights. “Plus, Hutch wouldn’t notice something like that.”

“You sure about that? Him being straight, I mean.” Leo challenged, as they entered.

“’Course I’m sure. I’ve known him a long time.”

“Well, that wasn’t the vibe I was getting.” Leo plopped down on the couch. “If you’re so close, I guess he knows about you.”

Starsky sat in the chair opposite. If Leo wasn’t careful, he was going to get a fist in the face.

“Is that a yes or a no?” Leo asked, smiling slyly. When Starsky still didn’t answer, he took a swig of his beer and set it on a napkin on the side table. Settling back against the cushions, he propped his right foot on his left knee. “You ever think about those times in Nam?”

“Which times?” Starsky asked, wishing Leo would disappear. He wasn’t sure where this mood had come from, but right then he wished he were anywhere but there. “The times we were being shot at, or the times we were shootin’ at other people?”

Leo sighed, running a hand through his longish black hair and shifting on the couch. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, Starsky mused. Even better looking than he had been in Nam when his hair had been short and he’d worn fatigues that had hugged his thighs. “The only times worth thinking about…the times I had my prick up your ass,” Leo stated with a leer and a slight jut of his crotch.

Starsky winced, jolted out of his thoughts by the crass statement. “Hell, Leo, no I don’t think about that! Those were desperate times. We were lonely and scared…”

“And horny. Don’t forget horny.” Leo laughed dirtily.

Starsky looked away. “I like women.”

“Yeah? So?” The black-haired man smiled slyly, his emerald eyes sparkling in the tanned planes of his face.

“I haven’t touched a man since Nam,” Starsky told him. “We were in hell, and nothin’ that happened there was real.”

Leo shook his head. “Whatever gets you through the night, my man, but what about your partner? Ever want to touch him?”

Starsky turned on him, his eyes steely and voice sharp. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about. Me and Hutch are close...but it’s not like that.”

“Okay, okay,” Leo drank the rest of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his long neck. The way he sat slouched down on the couch with his legs spread wide reeked with sexual undertones. “But if you aren’t going after him, do you mind if I have a go?”

“I told ya, Hutch don’t swing that way!” _If you touch him, I’ll kill you._ The thought came out of nowhere, and Starsky was shaken by the strength of the emotion.

“Just because you’re partners and best friends doesn’t mean you know everything about the man! How about a little wager?”  

“I ain’t making bets on my best friend,” Starsky said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Strange how this man so easily put him on the defensive, even now. He’d always been an instigator.

“Well, when we go out for drinks with him tomorrow night, I’ll show you I’m right.” Leo leaned forward, enjoying the look on his old friend’s face. “And you won’t be angry with me? When I take your partner to bed?”

Starsky grit his teeth. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Starsky looked away.

“I think I got my answer,” Leo said, leaning back. “Okay, Davey. Hutch is off limits. I understand.”

Something deep inside Starsky pushed him to say it. Something that told him he wasn’t bi-sexual…not really. That had all been the war, and shit happens in war. Hell, he loved women. He had a different one every week, and he’d fucked about a hundred of them in his lifetime. He didn’t want a man in his bed, least of all his best friend.

“Go for it. And I’ll laugh when Hutch punches you in the mouth. But Leo—“ Starsky leaned close and pointed a finger at him, “no mentioning what went down in Nam. That was my past. My _private_ past.”

“Fine, fine. I don’t see why it makes you so uptight. I’ve never gone back to women. But, hey--Whatever you say. But _I_ say your partner wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if you told him, because he swings that way, too.”

Starsky sighed heavily and drank his beer. He’d been excited when his old friend had called saying he was in town for a few days, but now he was wishing like hell he hadn’t. Nobody else from their platoon that he’d reconnected with after the war had ever mentioned the indiscretions they’d participated in with one another, just as they’d never rehashed the horrors of war. To most, they were pretty much the same thing. But evidently Leo was gay and proud of it. _Fine,_ Starsky thought. _But that don’t mean that the rest of us are fags just because we indulged a little during the war. Some guys did drugs back then, too, and never touched the stuff again. Does that make them addicts for life?_

“I don’t know why you insist on talking about…what we did back then,” Starsky complained, picking at a thread on the arm of the chair. “None of the rest of us do.”

Leo burst out laughing. “You guys don’t have the balls to admit the truth—that that was some of the best sex you’ve ever had!” Starsky’s eyes darkened, remembering—it had been hard and fast. Two bodies pitting their strength against each other. No being careful, no cajoling or romancing…just hard, fast, dirty sex. He got stiff just thinking about it, and hoped to hell Leo wouldn’t noticed.

Fortunately, Leo was looking around the apartment and not at Starsky’s crotch. He propped his arm on the back of the sofa and craned his neck toward the bedroom. “You got a guest room, or I gotta sleep on the couch?”

“It pulls out into a bed,” Starsky said, getting up and picking up the empties, purposely turning away so the sudden swell of his groin wasn’t visible.

“I could sleep with you…” Leo winked wickedly.

Starsky turned on him angrily, but the grin on Leo’s face brought back so many memories of camaraderie in the face of fear that he couldn’t stay mad. He never had been able to stay angry at Leo, even though the other man enjoyed ragging him. “Cut it out,” he grumbled, and went to throw away the beer bottles.

When he returned, Leo had the cushions off the couch and was pulling it out. Back to talking about Hutch, Leo mused, “Frankly, I’m glad you aren’t into guys anymore. I haven’t been this turned on by a man in a long time--That gorgeous blond hair…those legs that go on forever. Man, Dave, I don’t know how you sit next to the guy all day long without touching him!”

Starsky went to the closet and pulled out sheets, pillows, and a blanket.  “I touch him plenty, just not like you think.”

“Well _I’m_ gonna touch him. Just wait and see.”

Starsky took a deep breath and forced himself to ignore the words and the feelings they evoked in him. He told himself that it was his innate feelings of protectiveness for his partner that had him thrumming with anger every time Leo spoke of Hutch that way. Plus, he wasn’t entirely convinced that his old war buddy wasn’t just razzing him, trying to get a reaction. Besides, Hutch, as he very well knew, could take care of himself.

He helped his old friend make up the sofa bed, then told him goodnight. In his bed, Starsky stared at the ceiling and fondled the raging hard-on inside his pajama bottoms. He hadn’t had thoughts of sleeping with another man in years. Not since he was discharged from the army and began seeing women again. Okay, if he was going to be perfectly honest, maybe he’d had a couple. But nothing like the hazy images of impassioned tussling in darkened tents that now assaulted his mind. A hot hand covering him and the exquisite feeling of being owned …

As he approached his release, his mind found and focused on another memory involving a man—one he didn’t allow his desire-filled thoughts to linger on. He and Hutch were out with two of the wilder stewardesses they liked to spend time with—his was a blazing redhead named Shelly who had big tits that bounced as he rode her from behind on the floor of their motel room. Hutch was sprawled in the chair opposite, his pants discarded. Somehow his girl--Nancy-- had convinced him to handcuff her from behind, and there she was…kneeling in front of him, giving him head. Starsky could see Hutch’s face clearly over Shelly’s shoulder as he thrust into Nancy’s mouth. Hutch’s head lolled on the back of the chair, his blond hair a blaze of light against the dark navy of the drapes behind him. His mouth was open and he wasn’t making a sound, but he was arching up as the girl went down on him, his smooth chest pulled toward the ceiling as if by an invisible thread. One long, blond leg was stretched out on each side of the kneeling girl’s body, calf muscles tensing as he got closer to his release. Hutch’s hands were gripping the chair on each side, long fingers digging into the material, and then, as Starsky watched, mesmerized, Hutch lifted his head, looked straight into Starsky’s eyes, his mouth falling open …and came hard, jerking violently, ripples of ecstasy vibrating through him and transmitting out his sky blue eyes and into Starsky’s soul as his own electric climax ripped him open. For long seconds, as the aftershocks rocked them, their gazes held, never wavering.

It was an experience that Starsky could never forget, but had filed away as too dangerous to examine closely. Bringing it out now brought him to a fast, convulsive release into his hand.

***

“Your friend seems like an intense guy,” Hutch commented the next day as they climbed back into the Torino after having checked out a lead on a witness to a robbery. It was a particularly hot day, and sweat dripped down both men’s necks, wetting their collars. Hutch folded up his notebook and tucked it into the glove compartment as Starsky pulled away from the curb.

“Yeah, you could call him that. He’s always been that way. Never did say much if staring at you would do,” Starsky answered, easing into traffic.

“So _that’s_ why he was staring at me…I’d found myself wondering if my shirt was on inside out or something,” Hutch chuckled. “Then I started checking my teeth for lettuce left over from lunch.”

Starsky laughed, thinking about Leo’s words. “Look, I’ll give ya a heads up—he was starin’ extra hard because he’s interested in you.”

Hutch turned in the seat to look at his partner. “What? You mean as in…”

“Between the sheets,” Starsky finished for him. “I told him you didn’t swing that way, but he insisted you’d be game. He even wanted to make a little wager on it, but I said no. Couldn’t take his money like that.”

Hutch sat back in the seat, arms crossed over his chest, and stared out the windshield, deep in thought.

“Hutch? You mad? Don’t be…Leo doesn’t mean any harm. It’s not like he thinks you look like a fairy or nothin’. He doesn’t go for guys like that—likes ‘em real masculine, in fact. I think he just likes the looks of you. You can set him straight tonight, and it’ll be forgotten.”

Hutch didn’t say anything, and Starsky let it drop, glad now that he’d ventured into the subject since his partner wasn’t taking it very well. Who knew what might’ve happened if he’d waited and let Leo spring it on him in the bar? It was hard to know what was going on in that blond brain of his, but Starsky could almost see the wheels turning. Every time he cast a glance his way, Hutch sat frowning off into space. Finally, Starsky couldn’t stand it anymore.

“What gives, Hutch? I know you’ve got something on your mind, now spill.” Starsky gripped the wheel hard when he made the next left. “You mad because I got a gay friend, or because we’re going out with him tonight?”

Hutch looked over at him, his eyes snapping fire. “What the hell do you think I am? Mad you have a gay friend? Come on! You know me better than that.”

“Well? So you just feel uncomfortable that he’s hot for you? I told him he was crazy to think you’d ever take him up on it.”

Hutch was silent a moment, then asked, “You ever been with him, Starsky?”

The question surprised Starsky so much, he was temporarily struck mute. His mouth dropped open, and it was all he could do to concentrate on his driving. Fortunately, one turn later and they pulled up in front of Metro. He found a space and parked. “Why the hell did you ask me that, Hutch?” He asked, turning off the ignition and swiveling in his seat to face his partner.

“That’s not an answer,” Hutch replied, leaning against the door and giving Starsky his full attention. “Or maybe it is.”

It was Starsky’s turn to be silent, staring out the windshield at a palm tree blowing in the breeze. He wouldn’t lie to his partner, but hell if he could get the words out.

“I take it that’s a yes,” Hutch said after a few long minutes.

“Hell, Hutch, there was a war going on!” Starsky said defensively. “We all did it. There were hardly any women around, unless you were into raping the civilians. Whores had all kinds of diseases, and we didn’t see a lotta them, anyways. Sometimes we were just so lonely and scared…we turned to one another.”

“Leo was your lover,” Hutch stated quietly.

“Hell, no!” Starsky turned on him, frowning. “We weren’t _lovers_! We fucked a few times, that’s all. _Lovers_!” he grumbled _. Hutch sure had some weird ideas._ “Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t the only one!” Starsky clamped his mouth shut, wanting to bite off his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Hutch started to open the car door, and Starsky grabbed his wrist. “Wait a minute! We’re not finished here. You just got me to admit something I’ve never told another living soul. You can’t just shrug it off and go about your business. I can tell it’s buggin’ you. You think I’m a fairy?”

Hutch looked at him levelly. “You know me better than that. Thing is, I thought _I knew you_. Everything about you.  And…” Hutch looked away. “I thought you knew all there was to know about me, too. Even things I don’t say out loud. Especially after this past year.”

Starsky knew he was referring to all the time they’d spent together after Starsky was shot…making sure he healed and returned to the force. They’d become closer than they’d ever been.

Hutch saw his partner’s confused expression. “Forget it, Starsk. I’m just digesting the information, that’s all. It surprised me.”

“Surprised you that your partner ever took a man up his ass, you mean,” Starsky said pointedly. “So maybe you’re second-guessing this partnership.”

Hutch swung around on him so fast, Starsky backed up into the door, the handle to the window jabbing his kidney hard, making him wince.

Hutch’s finger shot out and jutted within an inch of Starsky’s nose, his blue eyes flashing angrily. “Don’t you ever say that again, unless you’re ready for a fight! Our partnership is the best relationship I’ve ever had, and don’t you forget it!” He was out of the car in a flash and striding up the stairs and into the building, leaving Starsky sitting in the Torino with his mouth hanging open.

 _Well, if Hutch wasn’t mad at me before, he sure is now,_ Starsky thought, getting out of the car and following his irate partner into the precinct. He found him chugging water from the cooler, sweat staining his blue T-shirt. When he saw Starsky, he turned away and stood in front of the fan, letting the air blow over him. Rumor had it the precinct was going to install air conditioning soon. It couldn’t be soon enough.

Starsky decided that it wouldn’t do any good to pursue the matter; they couldn’t speak plainly in the squad room anyway. He sat down and immersed himself in typing up the reports he’d left for the last minute. They were taking Leo to a local club at nine, which gave him only a couple of hours to finish up and go home to shower. Every once in a while, Starsky cast a look Hutch’s way to try to gauge his mood, but his partner’s face was a mask. When six o’clock rolled around, they were both finishing up with their last report.

“Team work,” Starsky commented as they placed the folders in Dobey’s box and headed out the door.  
“Nothing like it,” Hutch answered as they skipped down the steps side-by-side and out into the cool evening air.

“Thank God, the temperature’s down,” Starsky stretched his neck and shrugged a kink out of his shoulders before climbing into the Torino. Hutch slid in beside him and closed the door, leaning his head back against the seat.

“Headache?” Starsky asked.

“A little.”

“Wanna skip tonight?” Starsky found himself hoping Hutch would say yes.

“No, but I think I’ll drive my car and meet you there. In case I want to cut out early.”

Starsky was silent a long time before deciding he’d better say something about what had happened earlier while he had Hutch trapped in the car en route to his apartment. “Buddy…I wasn’t deliberately keeping something from you. It’s just I’m not real proud of it.”

Hutch was silent for a few minutes. Rather than appease Hutch, Starsky’s words seem to have made him frown harder. They were pulling up in front of Venice Place when he finally said, “Let’s just forget about it, Starsk.” He opened the door and got out. “I’ll see you there,” he said before turning and jogging to the front door of his building.

***

How could Hutch have misread his partner so badly? He had been so certain that Starsky had been aware of his changing feelings for him...feelings that had been rapidly evolving ever since—Kira. In fact, he would’ve sworn that after that debacle was resolved, he and Starsky had had an unspoken awareness that something was happening between them. That their love was growing and eventually they would act upon their feelings. In some ways, the shooting had slowed things down, but it had also, he’d thought, solidified the path that they were on.

In fact, he thought he could’ve pinpointed the very moment Starsky became aware---during a basketball game a month before the hit-- when they’d been sweaty and Hutch had pushed up against him. Time had just seemed to stop.

That’s the only reason Hutch had had the temerity to make eye contact with Starsky several days later when they’d been screwing those girls in the same room. The heat and need he’d seen in Starsky’s eyes as they’d climaxed, their eyes locked, had only confirmed things for him. In that moment it had seemed like the women weren’t even there, and he wanted so desperately to recreate that feeling of being one with his partner, body and soul.

And now Hutch found out that he’d been a fool. He really didn’t know Starsky at all.

Not only was Starsky certain that his partner could never be attracted to another man, but Starsky had had sexual experiences with men and never told Hutch. Starsky’s eagerness to dismiss and trivialize those experiences was what hurt Hutch the most, along with the shame he displayed over them. Hutch had been so certain that his partner was a virgin in that area. But the fact of the matter was that Starsky knew very well what it was to make love to another man, and he’d never once shown that kind of interest in his partner. Here Hutch had thought Starsky needed time to adjust to the thought of it, when in actuality he’d been completely oblivious to Hutch’s feelings and wants and had obviously never even thought of his partner in that light.

Hutch had definitely turned the corner between wanting a woman in his bed and wanting a man. Hadn’t Starsky noticed how long it had been since Hutch had been interested in a woman? Had he completely missed the signals that he’d been sending that the person he really wanted had been right beside him all along? What had happened to their perfect, unspoken communication? Somewhere along the line, one of them had changed frequencies.

Hell, for the past few months, not only had Hutch’s heart been ready, but his body had been, too. He’d been horny as hell, and had actually talked himself into taking that final step with Starsky. And he’d really thought Starsky would be receptive. After today, he wondered if Starsky would be more likely to punch him in the nose. As he finished showering, he chuckled humorlessly as he remembered that this weekend had been the date he’d set to make a move on his partner. They had time off, and had talked about going somewhere to relax. Hutch had made reservations for a cabin near a lake where they could bring it all out in the open. He was glad now that he hadn’t brought it up with his partner, shuddering to think how it would have all blown up in his face.

Hutch brushed his teeth and shaved what little five o’clock shadow he’d accumulated since that morning. He’d recently gotten rid of his mustache, and he thought he looked younger without it. Less like the hardened cop he’d become and more like the idealistic dreamer he’d once been. He remembered Leo’s heavy gaze upon him the evening before and could easily see now that the man had wanted him. At the time, Hutch had only been aware of his partner. Running a comb through his hair, he thought about how certain Starsky had been that Hutch would react negatively to Leo’s advances. That he would be disgusted by them.

The beginnings of anger surging through him, he went to his closet and looked through his clothes. They were going to a club…what should he wear? He avoided the blue shirt that he knew his partner said made him look like a movie star and went for the black. It fit his morose mood. He pulled his black jeans out of a pile on the floor, giving them a sniff and deeming them wearable. Why didn’t he ever have time to do laundry?

As he dressed, his anger grew. So Starsky could have sex with men and it was okay because a war was going on, but it was too shameful an act to ever mention to your best friend. And he would never think of looking for love and passion with the man beside him who loved him. Hutch was tired of wearing his heart on his sleeve.

When he was ready to go, he took a last look in the mirror and told himself he needed to throw away the dream he’d been nurturing for well over a year now. It was dead and he needed to bury it. And Starsky needed to realize that his partner had changed…Hutch was no longer interested in women, and Starsky needed to know that he was going to act on it.

***

“Sure your partner’s coming tonight?” Leo asked, leaning back in the booth of the darkened club and taking a drag on his cigarette. The band was between sets, and there was a blessed lull in volume.

Starsky looked at his watch. Almost ten o’clock. “I don’t know why he’s so late.”

Leo blew out smoke, then clicked his tongue. “Angel in black at two o’clock,” he murmured, and Starsky looked to the right, spotting Hutch’s blond head. He secretly had to agree with Leo--that blond hair against the black was striking, and nobody looked more like an angel fallen to earth than his partner.

“Down boy,” he said. “It ain’t gonna happen.” Starsky hoped his partner wasn’t still angry with him. It wouldn’t be like Hutch to hold a few war indiscretions against him. Of course, Hutch had claimed that hadn’t been what was bothering him. Something about how he thought Starsky had known everything about him. Well, of course he knew him…knew him enough to know he wouldn’t go for a man. The person Starsky was during the war wasn’t the same man he was now. He supposed Hutch meant that he was mad because Starsky had kept a secret from him. Well, he’d just have to make it up to the blintz somehow and smooth things over.

Hutch reached the table and greeted them with a smile that would melt the hardest heart. Leo almost toppled over trying to get out of the booth to let Hutch slide in between him and Starsky.

Starsky had never seen his partner like this; he actually appeared to be flirting with Leo. He’d made a pit stop at the bar and gotten a beer before joining them, and he took a long swallow of the golden liquid, setting the icy mug down on a napkin and running a pink tongue over wet lips.

“What the hell took ya so long?” Starsky asked, annoyed. He found himself leaning forward and speaking loudly to be heard over the band as it warmed up for its next number.

“Sorry, got a phone call before I left,” Hutch said casually, taking another sip of his beer. Leo pulled out a cigarette and offered the pack to Hutch.

Starsky got his second surprise of the night as he watched Hutch accept one and lean forward so Leo could cup his hand around his and light it, the two heads close together, dark and light. Starsky hadn’t seen Hutch smoke a cigarette since their days in the academy. Leo turned and gave Starsky a sly look that started his blood boiling. He crumpled his napkin and threw it on the table.

A busty brunette dressed in a skimpy skirt and tight blouse approached the three men and gave Hutch a seductive smile. “Wanna dance?” she asked him, leaning provocatively against the back of the booth.

“Not now, thanks, but maybe later,” Hutch answered with such a disarming smile, Starsky knew she wouldn’t be hurt by the rejection. Feeling his own reaction to his partner’s smile, he jumped up.

“Come on, sugar, I’ll dance with ya. He’d just stomp all over your feet anyway.” He led her onto the floor and began moving his hips to the pulsing music.

Hutch watched his partner rub himself all over the woman out on the dance floor for a while before turning and regarding the man next to him in a way he had not troubled himself to do the evening before. Leo was ruggedly good looking, his longish hair black and wavy. The sharp angles of his face spoke of a Native American heritage. The green of his eyes contrasted startlingly with his tanned face. He had broad shoulders and a slim waist, and long, tapered fingers that absently caressed his beer bottle. Leo’s gaze never left Hutch’s face during this perusal, and Hutch felt himself blushing when he realized it. Leo smiled, revealing a mouth full of straight, white teeth.

“You and Starsky having a good visit?” Hutch asked, hating the way he had to yell just to have a conversation. He didn’t enjoy loud music and crowds.

Leo scooted closer to him on the bench and leaned his ear toward Hutch, who repeated the question, watching his breath stir the man’s hair. Leo wore a small diamond stud in his earlobe, and Hutch found the sight of it erotic. In turn, Leo leaned into Hutch and put his lips to his ear. “It’s getting better and better,” he answered in a deep, breathy voice that made Hutch’s cock stir in his pants.

Leo put his chin in his hand, elbow resting on the table. He regarded Hutch with eyes that seemed to strip away the protective layers he’d shrouded himself in.

“I want you in my bed,” Leo said.

“So much for small talk,” Hutch smiled while trying to hide his discomfort. He took a handful of peanuts out of the bowl on the table and ate them one by one.

“What’s the point of small talk? Just wastes time. Let’s go to your place,” Leo suggested.

“I just got here,” Hutch replied easily, thinking how unusual yet good it felt to feel desired by a man.

Leo reached over and laid a hand on Hutch’s arm, and Hutch felt the attraction zip through him. He couldn’t deny it.

“I’ve never been with a man,” Hutch said softly, meeting Leo’s eyes.

“Dave seems to think you’d never even consider it.”

“Starsky and I seem to have been misreading each other for a while now,” Hutch stated stolidly, taking another handful of peanuts out of the bowl. Leo reached over and took one from his palm, his fingers lingering just seconds too long before withdrawing to pop the morsel onto his tongue.

“His loss,” Leo replied. “But Dave gave me his permission to have a go at you. So how about it?”

Hutch stared. “He what?”

“He told me to go for it. Of course, he thinks you’ll refuse me.”

Just then, Starsky approached the table with the brunette, her hand clasped tightly in his. He picked up his beer and took a long drink. “You wanna beer, honey?” he asked the girl. At her nod, he called over a waitress.

“Hey, Dave. Me and Hutch are gonna skip out of here, if that’s okay with you. You seem busy anyway, with…er…”

“Samantha,” the girl supplied.

A flicker of something in Starsky’s eyes caught his partner’s attention. “Unless you’d rather we didn’t,” Hutch put in, staring at him.

Starsky blinked. “Where’re you going?”

Leo looked at Hutch and shrugged. “Your place?”

Hutch turned and looked at his partner again, wondering if he could possibly have been wrong before—that Starsky might really care. His partner did look surprised, but his gaze was shuttered.

Starsky didn’t say anything. The waitress brought Samantha her drink and she sipped it quietly, watching the dancers, oblivious to the undercurrents drifting among the three men at the table.

“Starsk?” Hutch inquired.

“Guess there’re things I didn’t know about you, too,” Starsky finally said, having to lean over a bit for his partner to hear him over the music.

“You didn’t bother to find out, pal,” Hutch replied. “I think you do know, though, that I hate loud places like this. We’re heading out.” He slid out of the booth and stood, and Leo followed. He was about two inches taller than Hutch, and he curled his arm around the blond’s waist in a proprietary way that Starsky didn’t miss. He watched them leave, Leo turning to give Starsky a triumphant glance on his way out the door.

“Your friends leave?” Samantha asked, turning away from her perusal of the dance floor to look at him. Starsky pulled her to him for a long kiss, brushing her nipple with his thumb as he moved his hand toward her back. It wasn’t something he normally did—treating a woman that way in public-- but his rising emotions needed an outlet, and he was becoming impatient. Samantha didn’t seem to be insulted; she smiled invitingly at him. He never seemed to meet any really nice girls anymore. Nice girls such as Terry Roberts; but these days even her memory seemed like a cheap vanilla sundae when what he really wanted was a decadent slice of chocolate cake. What form that cake took, he still hadn’t figured out.

“Let’s go outside for some air,” Starsky suggested, standing. He took Samantha’s hand and almost dragged her out the door.

They ended up in the Torino, with Samantha’s mouth on him. Leaning his head back, he took deep breaths and tried not to think of Leo and Hutch and what they might do when they got to Hutch’s apartment. Instead he imagined his partner’s mouth on him rather than this stranger’s, and in seconds, he’d shot his load with a loud cry.

“Wow,” Samantha said, after swallowing with effort. “That was a lot.”

Starsky sat panting. “Why don’t you go in and I’ll be there in a minute?” he suggested raggedly.

Samantha shrugged and left the car. As soon as she’d entered the bar, he started the engine and headed for his partner’s.

Starsky rolled down the window and let the cool evening air hit his face. He was acting completely out of character, he realized. He’d never before taken a sexual favor from a woman without at least offering reciprocation. He’d never deliberately tricked a woman and skipped out on her. He wasn’t proud of it, yet he didn’t regret it, either. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Or maybe he did, but he wouldn’t accept it. Just like he wouldn’t accept the fact that he’d been afraid all along that Hutch might welcome Leo’s advances.

When he pulled up outside Hutch’s place, he looked up toward the bedroom window. The light was off. Were they up there? Were they kissing? Leo had left no doubt in Starsky’s mind of what he wanted to do with Hutch, and picturing that sent waves of uncontrollable anger shooting through Starsky’s body. What was Hutch playing at, anyway? He wrenched the door open and got out of the car, striding purposefully to the door of Venice Place.

When Starsky reached Hutch’s apartment, he gave two rapid knocks before turning the knob. It was unlocked. He charged in, looking around, moving immediately into the bedroom, images of what he might find already dancing in his mind’s eye. The sight of the empty bed hit him at about the same time as his ears detected the bathroom door opening.

“What the hell?” Hutch’s voice came from behind him. “Starsky, what are you doing here?”

Starsky braced himself to turn around and find Hutch and Leo together, fresh from the shower, but his partner was the only one standing there.

“Where’s Leo?” Starsky asked, bewildered.

“I don’t know. Did you try your place?”

“But you left together…”

Hutch sighed and went to the dresser and opened the middle drawer. “Yeah, so? I dropped him at your place. Did you come here to see him or me?”

“Both, I guess,” Starsky mumbled.

Hutch dropped the blue towel that had been wrapped around his waist and pulled on a pair of white pajama bottoms.

“Thought you were planning on…uh, spending the night with Leo,” Starsky said, proud of the even tone he kept in his voice as he watched Hutch slide the pants over his long legs and muscular ass. He wondered if Hutch realized they were virtually see-through.

“Oh, yeah? You come to watch?” Hutch looked Starsky in the eye. “Or maybe join in?” Starsky looked away. “No, I thought not. Well, for your information, I was planning on sleeping with Leo…but I changed my mind,” Hutch walked toward his partner, stopping within touching distance.

“How come?”

“How come what? How come I wanted to sleep with Leo, or how come I changed my mind?”

“Both.”

“Starsky, I think you know how come. I was tempted to make it with Leo, but…” He started to say _I’d rather make it with you_ , but the look on Starsky’s face stopped him. “What are you doing here, Starsk? You made it plain at the bar that you didn’t care what I did.”

Starsky looked pained. “I care, Hutch. Of course I care. But…”

“I’ve been thinking about it tonight. It’s not that you can’t still read me like a book, it’s that you aren’t interested and don’t want to say it out loud. And evidently you don’t want me to be with Leo…”

Starsky had looked away again, unwilling to meet Hutch’s eyes. “You’re a big boy; you can be with who you want.”

“Then why did you charge in here, if not to stop it?”

Starsky made a face. “Why are we even talking about this if you already decided you don’t wanna do it with him?”

“I changed my mind for tonight, Starsk, but I’m going to see him tomorrow night. And I don’t know what will happen then.”

“ _What?_ Hutch, what is this really all about, huh? You never acted like you wanted to be with a man until I brought all this up this afternoon.”

“You sure about that?” Hutch’s gaze pinned him to the spot, demanded he face it. “Maybe not just any man, Starsky, but I think I’ve made it pretty plain how I feel about _you_. I’ve done everything except say it out loud.” Hutch stepped forward and put a hand on Starsky’s shoulder. “You can’t tell me that you’ve misread me all this time. You can’t tell me that you don’t know how I feel about you. I thought so at first, but now I know there’s no way you couldn’t know.”

Starsky studied Hutch’s eyes for several long seconds before replying. “’Course I know how you feel…you love me, same as I love you. That’s never changed. But…we’ve never—I mean, you and me…”

“I was just thinking you might be open to it, Starsky. I thought you’d been getting used to the idea. But then you dropped that bomb today about having done it in Vietnam—and I felt like—well, like you’d rejected me.”

“I ain’t never touched a man like that since the war, Hutch. And you just don’t understand—being there was like being on a different planet or something. Normal laws just didn’t apply.”

Hutch studied his face. “And you have absolutely no desire to be with me that way.”

For the third time, Starsky looked away.

Hutch stepped back, took a T-shirt from a pile on the chair, and pulled it over his head. “That’s okay, Starsk, as long as I know where we stand. You aren’t into guys, and that’s fine. At least it’s out in the open now--I’ve changed a lot over the past year or so, and I’ve been feeling things—I really think I want to try this. All of my relationships with women have ended up in the crapper. Finding out that I can desire a man has made me look at things differently.”

“Desire _a_ man, or _this_ man?” Starsky asked quietly, his hand pressing to his own chest.

Hutch’s blue gaze pinned him again. “Let me make it clear, Starsky.” He walked toward him, not stopping until their chests were touching. Hutch put a hand on Starsky’s cheek. “I love you,” he said softly, his blue eyes turning tender. “I want you—all of you. Your mind, soul, and yes…your body. But if I can’t have you, I’m going to look elsewhere for what I need. I do feel an attraction to Leo, and he wants me.” He brought his face closer to Starsky’s, his breath tickling his ear. “But I’ll be thinking of you. Always of you, Starsk.”

Starsky pulled back and stared at his partner, taking in the tall, long-legged figure topped by hair too fair and beautiful for a grown man. His heart thumped loudly as his gaze met Hutch’s clear blue one. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved this man, but taking that final step that Hutch was asking of him—he just couldn’t do it. During a war, things like that were _allowed._ Or, at least, _ignored._ But there was no war going on here. This was life, and loving a man was something despised by the world. And Starsky still held onto that dream of a wife and family someday.

“Hutch, this is dangerous—you’re a cop!”

“Well, I don’t plan to advertise it, buddy,” Hutch said, taking a step away. “And I always have you to back me up.” He gave his partner a small smile. “Maybe you oughta go home and hang out with Leo. He’s your guest, after all.”

Starsky started for the door, but hung back, wanting to say something, but not wanting to.

Hutch stared at him a long moment. “Starsk…turn me down because you don’t want me. But not because you’re afraid.” Starsky turned and walked out the door, shutting it quietly behind him. Only then did Hutch lose the mask of gentle defeat and let his disappointment and heartbreak show on his face.

***

When Starsky entered his apartment, he found Leo lounging on the couch in his boxers, watching TV.

“Well?” he asked, looking up at Starsky.

“Well, what?” Starsky threw his keys into the bowl on the side table and crossed to the kitchen.

“You make it with the brunette?” Leo asked.

Starsky ignored him. Taking a beer out of the refrigerator, he opened it and took several long swallows. He was annoyed with himself that now he couldn’t even think of the girl’s name.

“In case you’re worried, nothing happened between me and Hutch,” Leo told him, watching as Starsky crossed the room and took a seat in the chair.

“And nothin’s going to,” Starsky told him. “I know you’re gonna see Hutch tomorrow night.  I don’t want you to touch him. In fact, cancel it altogether.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “What’s got your panties in a wad? You sure you aren’t interested in Hutch?”

“Hutch is confused and doesn’t need you taking advantage of him,” Starsky said gruffly. “He’s never been with a man. Lay off.”

“Your partner’s a big boy, Dave. He wouldn’t appreciate you fighting his battles for him.”

Starsky leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “He ain’t gonna know about it.”

Leo laughed. “He’s a detective, for Christ’s sake! He’s gonna see right through me bailing out on him.”

Starsky pointed a finger at Leo, his face stony and his blue eyes shooting fire. “Don’t you lay a finger on him, or I'll break _all_ your fingers!”

Leo smiled widely. “Well, well! Davey boy, you surprise me. I haven’t seen this side of you since I’ve been here. Sure, I’ll keep my fingers off your boyfriend. No need to worry.”

Starsky didn’t bother correcting him about the boyfriend thing. He just got up and went to take a shower, hoping Leo’s visit would prove to be a short one.

 

***

If Starsky thought his threats meant anything to him, he was dead wrong, Leo thought smugly. He had his chance to get his hands on some prime blond ass, and he wasn’t going to waste the chance. Kenneth Hutchinson turned him on like no man had in years, and he wanted him. He’d be leaving Bay City shortly anyway, and he’d probably never see Dave Starsky again. Not to mention the fact that being told not to do something just made him want to do it all the more, especially when the one doing the telling was Dave Starsky. They always did have a bit of competition going on between them.

********

The next day was Thursday, and Hutch spent it at his desk, doing paper work while Starsky opted to do the legwork for an on-going case. Part of him felt relief at not having to spend the day with his partner, now that everything was out in the open. He needed the time to process and adjust to the fact that Starsky knew he wanted him, and he knew that Starsky did _not_ want him. Where to go from here? Was it a good idea to start something with Leo? It would just be a fling, but mightn’t that be the best way to ease himself into this new world? Until yesterday, he’d been in limbo, waiting for his partner. Now he knew that whatever hang-ups Starsky had, they were too strong for him to overcome.

When five o’clock arrived, Hutch went home, took a shower, and dressed for the evening. When Leo arrived, Hutch was ready and waiting. He wore the midnight blue shirt he’d rejected the day before with cream-colored slacks that hugged his thighs and ass. Leo wore a green shirt that made his eyes sparkle like emeralds, and a pair of dark jeans that showed off his lean legs. Hutch felt his mouth go dry at the sight of him, surprised by the physical attraction he felt for the man.

Hutch could see the desire in Leo’s eyes, and it tightened his groin. For a brief moment, he seriously considered pulling Leo inside his apartment and forgetting about going out.

“You ready to go, my beautiful man?” Leo asked, and Hutch paused. He was used to taking the dominant role in romance, but in a strange way, he liked this. He liked the way Leo regarded him with a vague sense of ownership, and he liked the way he openly appreciated his looks. It was new, and it excited him.

“Where’re we going?” he asked, grabbing his jacket.

“I thought we’d go to a club.”

Hutch stopped mid-step. “A club?”

“A gay club,” Leo emphasized. “Look, don’t worry. I know you’re a cop and have to be careful. This place is so out of the way, it’s practically off the map entirely. Your friend Huggy recommended it to me. You trust him, don’t you?” The green eyes innocently questioned.

Hutch’s spine stiffened. “Huggy? You told him?”

“Not about you, no. Don’t worry.” Leo laid a hand on Hutch’s shoulder, a fingertip brushing his neck in a sultry caress. “Come on…you’ll be able to let yourself go. You’ll like it, I promise. It’s not real loud like that place last night.”

Intrigued, Hutch gave in and followed him out.

***

Starsky had spent his day working so hard he didn’t have time to think about Hutch. When he got off, he wasn’t about to sit at home and wonder whether or not Leo would break the date. He thought he probably wouldn’t, but that Starsky could at least trust the man to keep his word and not make a move on his partner. How would Hutch take the rejection? Although he didn’t want Hutch to be hurt, part of Starsky couldn’t help but hope that Hutch might give up the idea of wanting a male sexual partner. In the meantime, he had the evening to himself.

He called a couple of ladies that were usually willing to give him a night of fun, but they were busy. Unwilling to mope around his apartment, he took off for The Pits.

The place was jumping, most of the tables full and all the waitresses busy with trays full of drinks and food. The juke box blasted an Eagles tune, and Huggy helped at the bar. The skinny man paused to give Starsky a cursory “What it is?” before taking someone’s drink order. Starsky hung around, watching a couple of guys play pool, until the initial rush was over, and then ordered a beer. Huggy’s regular bartender took over, and the black man came to chat a while with his friend.

“Where’s your blond sidekick?” Huggy asked, taking the empty bar stool to Starsky’s right and leaning against the wall.

“He’s out on a date,” Starsky muttered around his beer.

Huggy’s brow rose. “Is that so? Frankly, that surprises me.”

“How come?” Starsky asked.

“Well, I just didn’t think Hutch was interested much in the female persuasion as of late. In fact, I was getting distinct vibes that our blond brother’s heart belonged to a certain curly-haired detective.” Huggy winked one of his long, dark eyes.

Starsky almost choked on his beer. “Huggy!” He gasped, grabbing a napkin.

Huggy pounded on Starsky’s back until he could breathe again. “I guess you think old Huggy just stays in the background, a brainless bit of fluff on the sidelines of your life.” He gave his friend an insulted look, the final pat on his back a bit rougher than the others had been.

“Shit, Hug, I guess I’ve underestimated you again,” Starsky quickly assuaged. “When in the hell did you get this ‘vibe’?”

“Oh, along about the time the hit came down, although quite frankly, I’ve always wondered a little about the two of you. Thought maybe you were suppressing your real desires, if you catch my drift.”

Starsky scowled. “Let’s get something straight right here—me and Hutch ain’t doin’ the naked pretzel. I love him an’ all, but I’m not gay.”

Huggy frowned, unconvinced. “Oh, so that’s how it is. And who is the White Knight on a date with tonight?”

“My old army buddy, Leo. You met him.”

Huggy seemed surprised, and took a moment to think this through. “I see,” he said simply. And then, “So he _is_ out with a man.”

Before Starsky could comment, a tall, sleek, black woman came up to the bar and leaned over Huggy to grab hold of the beer the bartender had poured for her. Her ample breasts came just shy of smacking the skinny man in the face. Huggy gave her a wolfish grin, and she blew him a kiss before walking away.

“But nothin’s gonna happen between Hutch and Leo,” Starsky picked up the conversation. “Hutch’s confused, is all. He has been ever since the hit. It’s all that time we spent together—him takin’ care of me. It did a number on his heart, and it’s just gonna take a while for him to work it through.”

“And Leo’s gonna help him work it through?” Huggy asked, eyebrow high.

“I told Leo to lay off of him.”

Huggy shook his head, wondering why Starsky had to be so thick. “And he will?”

“If he knows what’s good for him, he will.”

Huggy studied the tough man beside him for a few minutes, watching him run long, tapered fingers over the condensation on his glass. Bursts of laughter and loud conversations surrounded them, but the intimacy of their conversation held them in a cocoon of privacy.

“You ever think you and Blondie won’t be cops forever, Starsky?” Huggy finally asked, his tone casual. He watched the curly, dark lashes sweep the flushed cheeks as he raised the glass to his lips.

“No, not forever.” Starsky took a long drink. “Either we’ll move up or try something else, I guess. Someday we’re gonna be too old for the streets and the toll they’re takin’ on us.”

“I kinda thought for a while that Hutch was ready to quit. Especially after you were hurt.” Huggy’s eyes scanned the dining area. He directed a waitress to a neglected table with a flick of a finger.

Starsky frowned. “Obviously you were wrong there.”

“Maybe so, but maybe not. Well, what’re you two gonna do when you do call it quits someday? Go your separate ways?”

Starsky turned his azure gaze on his friend. “’Course not! Me and Hutch ain’t never going our separate ways. What’re you getting at?” He frowned, annoyed. “I mean, it hasn’t been too long since I’ve been back on the job. You know something I don’t?”

Huggy shrugged. “I just think that you, my friend, got out of one uniform and slipped right into another…and you never considered what things might be like without the constraints of the army or police force. That you might have options. You can’t be a cop forever, and you and Hutch can’t remain in each other’s pockets if you really plan to get serious enough with some lady to get married. No marriage bed is big enough for you, your wife, and Hutch. You’ll have to make a decision on what’s most important in your life.”

Starsky shook his head. “You’re not making a lot of sense. You sayin’ if me and Hutch weren’t cops, we’d either be split up or end up in the sack together? I told you, Hug, I ain’t gay, and no matter what Hutch may say, he ain’t gay either.”

“Things aren’t always so black and white, Starsky,” Huggy said, taking a toothpick out of the dispenser and putting it between his teeth. “There’re shades of gray, you know, and I happen to be one of those shades.”

Starsky turned on the bar stool to look at his friend. “What?” Starsky suddenly felt that the world he thought he knew was turning completely on end. “Hug, I’ve seen you with more women than me and Hutch combined.”

Huggy grinned, his teeth flashing white in the darkened room. “As much as I like the sound of that, I do believe you exaggerate. But I’m here to tell you that for every three ladies I’ve made it with, there’s been a dude I’ve made it with, too.”

Starsky’s eyes widened at that. “You’re bi-sexual, Hug? You never said…”

“Yeah, well, you never asked me, Starsky. Hutch knows.”

“He does?” Starsky asked incredulously.

“You may be surprised at the heart-to-hearts the blond and I have had. He’s a great listener, as I suspect you know. And even though you and me have been friends longer, it’s the White Knight who has been there for me concerning my most intimate troubles.”

Starsky sat blinking, trying to process. Had he really been so self-involved that he didn’t know this most basic thing about his long-time friend?

“Disgusted?” Huggy asked, shoving the toothpick to the other side of his mouth with his tongue.

Starsky shook his head. “No, ‘course not.”

“Then how come when it comes to thinking of you or Hutch with a man, you freak out?” Huggy wanted to know. “Hutch don’t have the hang-ups you have, thank the Lord. However,” Huggy took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Starsky. “He is more prone to getting’ hisself hurt. I hope you’re gonna keep an eye on him.”

Starsky thought about Leo and wondered if he could really trust him to lay off Hutch. Maybe it would be a good idea to show up around the time Leo brought Hutch home.

He chatted with Huggy a while more before taking on a couple of guys in a game of pool.

By eleven, he thought it time to head to Hutch’s and ward off any possible romantic advances on Leo’s part. He said goodbye to Huggy and left, sliding behind the wheel of the Torino.

Shaking his head, Starsky pulled away from the curb and headed toward Venice Place. It was close to 11:30 when he got there, and Hutch’s car was out front.  However, Leo’s rental was nowhere to be seen. He went upstairs anyway, banged on the door and then let himself in. The place was empty, and Starsky settled down to wait.

***

Leo unbuttoned the midnight blue shirt and pulled it off Hutch’s arms, letting it slide to the floor. Alternately kissing and licking Hutch’s skin, he systematically worked the blond into a sex-induced haze, getting to know his body intimately with every touch. “You are so hot,” he whispered into Hutch’s ear, his breath warm and heavy with beer.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Hutch said, reeling from the sensations surging through his body. He tried not to think about Starsky as Leo unzipped his pants and pulled them down his legs. The gay club had been entertaining, but after a few drinks and dances, Leo had suggested they leave. Hutch had invited Leo to his place, but he’d vetoed the idea, stating that he couldn’t wait that long. He’d stopped at a nearby motel.

“God, these legs!” Leo groaned, kneeling and rubbing his hands up and down Hutch’s thighs. “I’ve been wanting them around me since the moment I laid eyes on you, beautiful.” The words lit a fire in Hutch’s groin and he surrendered to a hungry kiss that left him breathless.

As things between them grew more heated, Leo began stripping off his own clothes. Hutch’s nerves flared. He was unsure of the new territory he was stepping into, and beginning to think coming to this motel with Leo had been a bad idea. Part of him wanted to find out what it was like to make love to a man, but he knew that with Leo, it wouldn’t be making love. How far did he want to take this? Leo returned his attentions to Hutch’s lips.

“Leo…” Hutch gasped in between hot, French kisses that were making his mouth numb. “I-I’m new at this. Need to slow down.”

Leo fastened his mouth to Hutch’s neck, sucking and biting. “Can’t slow down…you’ve set me on fire, gorgeous.” His hands moved around to grasp Hutch’s ass, digging his fingers in as he branded the sensitive skin of Hutch’s neck with his mouth. Hutch managed to get both hands between them and onto Leo’s chest. He pushed.

“Come on, slow down a little,” he told him. When Leo’s fingers ventured to Hutch’s crack, he pushed harder. “Leo!”

Leo stepped back, but didn’t let go of his hold on Hutch. Breathing hard with need, but not wanting the blond to bolt, he made an effort to control himself. “Okay, sorry, sorry.” He loosened his grip and ran his hands over Hutch’s bare arms. “Tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

After looking into Leo’s emerald eyes for a long, silent moment, Hutch stepped out of the pants that had pooled around his ankles and kicked them over to where he’d tossed his shoes and socks earlier. He moved over to the bed and sat down. “How about we just lie here a while…and explore.”

Leo nodded, shedding the rest of his clothing, and lying down on the big motel bed, his blood red cock standing at attention. He wanted to bury it inside the blond so bad he couldn’t stand it, but he knew he had to be careful. He’d been smart enough not to go back to Hutch’s place with him—knowing Starsky would look for them there, and to drive them to a Howard Johnsons instead. There he’d gotten a room in the back where his car couldn’t be seen from the road. Nobody would interrupt them. He patted the space beside him on the bed, and Hutch tentatively stretched out, his blond hair shining in the half-light that was coming from the bathroom door. Leo slid a hand down Hutch’s side and over his hip bone, admiring the lean planes and smooth skin. He’d never been with a man so blond, so angelic looking. Sure, he was tough, but there was an underlying vulnerability that fascinated Leo. The man was sensual and vulnerable without being effeminate, a rare and heady combination that made the Vietnam veteran horny as hell.

“How many men have you been with?” Hutch asked unexpectedly.

Leo laughed. “More than I can count.”

It suddenly occurred to Hutch that Leo had touched Starsky intimately, and the thought both intrigued and rankled him. He’d touched his partner in places and ways that Hutch longed to, but was denied. Leo leaned in and kissed Hutch’s shoulder, and he tensed slightly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leo soothed. “Here, why don’t you relax.” He gently pushed Hutch onto his back and began alternately kissing and licking his chest. Hutch felt himself letting go a little bit and melting into the mattress as Leo’s tongue moved over him, skillfully making him crazy. He moved so that his legs wrapped around Leo, and the man groaned in his arms.

While nibbling on a coppery nipple, Leo moved his hand down to fondle the blond’s long, thick phallus, and Hutch gasped, exciting Leo further. He moved up and kissed the wide mouth thoroughly, moving both hands around to the muscular ass and squeezing in rhythm with his heartbeat. Hutch’s sex was hard and hot against Leo’s abdomen. Leo pulled him in tighter, kissing him hungrily. “Turn over,” he finally whispered.

Hutch hesitated, but Leo gently pushed him over onto his stomach, running his hands over the planes and valleys of Hutch's muscular back. Smoothly, he pushed Hutch’s legs up and began licking and nipping the pale globes. Hutch moaned loudly, gripping the sheets with his hands. He heard Leo reaching for something and the sound of a cap snapping open. When Hutch felt him apply slippery fingers to Hutch’s opening, the blond panicked. It was too much, too fast. He couldn’t do this. A long finger pushed inside him, and Hutch tried to squirm away.

“Stop,” he said harshly, twisting, but Leo had him caged in.

“Shh…it’s okay,” Leo draped his body over Hutch’s, pressing him down into the mattress, and rapidly moved his finger in and out. In his anxiety, the sensations no longer felt erotic to Hutch, but instead seemed clinical and violating. Leo added a second finger and Hutch cried out in pain, tensing further.  He could feel Leo's sweat against his back, hear his breathing accelerating as Hutch writhed in pain beneath him. His cries excited Leo, there was no doubt about that, and Hutch bit his lip to hold them in. Leo withdrew his hand and began pushing his large organ inside of Hutch’s anus without further preparation. The pain was excruciating, and Hutch sucked in a breath, his whole body going rigid.

“No, stop!” Hutch yelled, trying to raise himself up, but Leo was too heavy and the bed too soft. “Get off me, goddammit!”

But Leo was too far gone for that. Hutch groaned, the muscles in his neck bulging at the pain and violation. One moment he’d been in a sexual fog, feeling wonderful, and the next thing he knew, he was being raped. He hadn’t intended to go this far, hadn’t liked the feeling of the probing fingers. Never had he even considered that he could be in any danger of being forced against his will, but here he was pressed beneath Leo’s weight, unable to relax against the searing pain threatening to tear him in two.

“God…so tight…so hot!” Leo bent and pressed a kiss between Hutch’s shoulder blades.

The terrible pain brought tears to Hutch’s eyes. He squeezed them shut, wondering how the man on top of him could possibly think he was enjoying it. “Leo,” he breathed, softening his voice with difficulty, “please get off me. You’re hurting me. I don’t want this!”

But the other man didn’t seem to hear him. Leo began to pump harder, his body slamming against Hutch’s, each thrust a searing brand that made him raw. There hadn’t been enough lubrication, and now Leo was lost in sensation and either completely oblivious to or uncaring about Hutch’s agony. He began praying it would end; he couldn’t take the pain any longer, but the nightmare seemed to go on forever. Finally, with a jerk and a loud cry, Leo slumped over him and then rolled off.

Hutch immediately scrambled off the bed, grabbing up his clothes with shaking hands.

“Where’re you going?” Leo asked. “What’s your hurry? We’ve got all night.”

Trembling and feeling like a fool, Hutch drew his pants on, not even bothering to find his underwear. He pulled his shirt over his head and slipped into his shoes, pulling open the motel door and heading out into the night.

“Where’re you going?” Leo called from the door. “Ken, come back!” Hopping into his pants, he ran down the sidewalk after him. When he touched the fleeing man’s arm, Hutch swung around and punched him as hard as he could in the jaw, sending Leo sprawling onto the sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever touch me again,” he said gruffly, turning away and walking briskly into the night.

Hutch didn’t have a car, so he walked for miles, his mind blanking out. He felt the cool air on his skin, and after a while, cold raindrops on his face. He heard the ocean at a distance, and smelled the unpleasantly strong aroma of trash when he passed through a back alley. Another mile and he detected the spicy scent of Italian food coming from a restaurant. Voices raised in laughter drifted from across the street. A motorcycle accelerated with a roar and the exhaust fumes burned in his nostrils. All of these things passed through Hutch’s subconscious as he mechanically moved forward down the sidewalk, the more aware part of his brain turned off. He hadn’t taken the time to pull on his socks, so his shoes scraped blisters on his heels, but the pain barely registered. It was the same with the ache he felt elsewhere.

As it began to rain in earnest, what had previously been light tapping turning into hard slaps of water, Hutch finally began to become more aware of his surroundings. Taking a long shuddery breath and holding back tears of shame and degradation, he looked around, unsure of where he was. He didn’t recognize the street. Spotting a bar, he walked in, grateful for the dark, smoky atmosphere, and ordered a scotch. Pouring it down his throat, he ordered another one. When he felt steadier, he asked for the phone. The bartender, a heavy-set man with sagging jowls and beady eyes, put it down in front of him. Hutch’s hand hovered over the numbers, considering. He fought the strong impulse to call his partner, instead calling the cab company advertised on a coaster.

He had two more small glasses of scotch before the cab arrived. He paid the bartender and left, giving his address to the driver and settling back, his mind numb. He heard the cabby trying to make small talk, but his brain wouldn’t wrap around the words. When the taxi came to a halt, he took some bills out of his wallet and tossed them up front without counting them and got out.

Suddenly, he was in his apartment and didn’t even remember walking up there.

“Have fun?” a strained voice came from behind him, and Hutch swiveled to see Starsky leaning in the kitchen doorway.

A laugh bubbled up from Hutch’s belly. _Yeah, some fun._ Shaking his head, he fell into the chair and kicked off his shoes, wincing at the blisters.

“Must have. Your shirt’s inside out,” Starsky wandered into the room and stood before his partner, his stance belligerent. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Thanks. What’re you doing here, Starsky?” Hutch asked wearily. He leaned his head back and stared at his friend’s hostile face.

Now that he was still the various aches and pains in Hutch’s body began to register. He brought his bruised knuckles to his mouth and sucked gently, his eyes never leaving his partner’s.

“Waiting for you. Where’s Leo?” Starsky asked tightly, taking in every nuance of Hutch’s disheveled appearance, including the enormous hickey on his neck.

“Flat on his back outside the Howard Johnsons, last time I saw him,” Hutch answered. He lowered his hand to his lap, shifted in the chair, and winced.

Starsky sat on the edge of the coffee table, his demeanor softening. His knees touched Hutch’s as he leaned forward. He didn’t like the look on his partner’s face. “What’s wrong, Hutch?”

Hutch’s eyes pulled away. “Go home, Starsky,” he demanded quietly.

Starsky reached out and put a hand on Hutch’s thigh. Hutch flinched, but didn’t jerk away. Starsky’s eyes did a more thorough search of his wet friend, taking in the sockless feet, the untucked and inside out shirt, the mussed hair and the red knuckles of his right hand. “Hutch?” He moved in closer, one of his legs insinuating itself between Hutch’s spread knees. Reaching up, Starsky gently took Hutch’s chin in his hand and turned his face toward him. The hollow, glassy-eyed look that met him knocked his heart straight into his stomach. “Tell me.”

Hutch opened his mouth and then closed it. His partner’s eyes compelled him to answer. “I-I wanted it. I did.”

Starsky’s gaze didn’t waver, although his guts clenched into a knot. “And?”

“A-and…” Hutch swallowed and tried to look away, but Starsky wouldn’t let him. “But then I…I wanted to stop.” Hutch took a breath. “He wouldn’t…” His eyes rose to meet his partner’s. “…stop.”

Starsky’s hand came away from Hutch’s face and he leaned back, every muscle in his body turning to stone. “My God, I’m gonna kill that bastard.” He stood up, but Hutch grabbed his arm.

“Starsky, no.”

Starsky yanked his arm away and headed for the door, but in a move he didn’t know he was capable of making in his state, Hutch launched himself over the chair and blocked his way. “No, Starsky. I went to that motel with him. I wanted it…I did. It’s just…”

“You wanted to stop, and he wouldn’t.” The expression on Starsky’s face scared Hutch. He reached out and grabbed Starsky’s upper arms, but his partner shook him off. “He raped you.”

“No…it w-wasn’t like that.”

“Did you tell him to stop, Hutch? Did you ask him to? Did you try to fight him off?” He could read the answer in Hutch’s face. “And he wouldn’t. He raped you.” Starsky jerked himself out of his partner’s grip and put his hand on the door knob.

“Starsky please…I need you,” Hutch groaned from behind him. It was the only thing he could’ve said that would stop him in this moment of blind rage. Starsky turned around and saw that Hutch was shaking. He willed his anger away for the moment and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly, his left hand carding through his hair when Hutch’s face found his shoulder.

“I never thought it could happen, Starsk. I thought I could handle myself,” Hutch’s voice was muffled by Starsky’s shirt. “B-but…I panicked, and he was too heavy, and I couldn’t move out from under him. And he wouldn’t…stop.” He choked out a sob, and Starsky held him tighter. “I don’t know if he was just caught up in the moment, or if he thought I was enjoying it…”

“The bastard!” Starsky grit out from between his clenched teeth. “Don’t make excuses for him. You told him to stop and he wouldn’t!”

Hutch turned his face and buried it in Starsky’s warm neck. “It hurt,” Hutch whispered, barely audible.

Starsky swallowed. “Are you alright? You need to go to the hospital?”

Hutch shuddered. “No. I won’t. Oh my God, Starsky, I’m such a stupid idiot!” Hutch clenched handfuls of Starsky’s shirt in his fists.

“Shh, no you aren’t, you aren’t.” Starsky pulled back and looked Hutch in the face. “Babe, if you weren’t ready, he should’ve respected that.” Inside, Starsky was barely tamping down his rage. He wanted to tear Leo limb from limb, not only for touching his partner, but for hurting him. But he had to take care of Hutch. He reached up and pushed the hair out of the blond’s eyes, his hand shaking. “Why don’t I draw you a warm bath, huh? You can soak for a while. Then maybe we can talk about it some more.”

Hutch gave a short nod, and Starsky headed for the bathroom. As he turned on the taps, he fought hard to get his emotions under control. His partner needed him, and he was determined to be there for him. He tested the water and then ran his damp hands over his face. Feeling steadier, he went into the bedroom and helped Hutch to undress. When the cords came off, Starsky saw that Hutch didn’t have any underwear on, and Starsky knew that that, along with the absence of socks, meant he’d made a hasty exit. He was further disturbed to find that, in addition to the hickey, Hutch had marks all over his pale skin from fingers, lips, and teeth. By the time he’d helped lower the abused body into the water, Starsky was shaking. Excusing himself, he went to the kitchen and tried to calm down, standing at the window and staring out into the darkness. He cursed himself for allowing Leo to visit and for not making it clear from the very beginning that he was to keep away from Hutch.  A good ten minutes later, when Starsky felt he had it together enough to face his partner again, he walked back into the bathroom to find him lying lethargically in the water, steam rising about his face, his body lax and eyes half-closed. He looked as though he hadn’t moved a muscle since climbing into the tub.

Starsky knelt beside him and soaped up a wash cloth. Gently, he began to wash Hutch’s arms, neck and chest. His partner’s eyes looked vacant, his face exhausted.

“Hutch, I’m really worried about you…you think you have any tears…uh, down there? Maybe I should look.”

“No, Starsky,” Hutch said quietly but firmly, shaking his head in the slow, steady rhythm of a metronome.

“But you could get really sick…”

“I said, no!” Hutch’s face was stony and his tone brooked no arguments.

“Okay, then you take this washcloth, and you wash yourself thoroughly. I’m going into the bedroom.” Starsky got up and left the room. He paused at the door until he heard the water splashing and trickling as Hutch shifted in the tub, followed by a hiss of pain. A few minutes later, Starsky returned to the bathroom with a large, fluffy towel. Hutch stood up a bit shakily and allowed Starsky to wrap it around him, then to help him out and onto the bath mat. As Hutch walked stiffly into the bedroom, Starsky opened the medicine cabinet and took out a tube of antibacterial ointment, then followed his partner. “I want you to apply this before you put your pajamas on.” He tossed Hutch the tube. At the set of Hutch’s jaw, Starsky added, “If you don’t, I will,” and he left the room again.

Starsky busied himself in the kitchen making hot tea, then carried a cup of it to Hutch in the bedroom. He set it beside the bed and looked down at his friend who was lying on his side, his back to Starsky, staring at the far wall. Starsky took a seat at the foot of the bed.

“Tell me what happened, Hutch,” he said softly.

“I did.” Hutch’s voice was expressionless.

“Tell me everything.”

Hutch clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, but he didn’t refuse. After a few moments, he began talking in the tone he used when reporting a bust to Dobey.

“We left the club and went to a hotel. He’d told me he wanted me, and I thought I wanted him, too. I’d also told him I’d never been with a man. We kissed, and stuff... Then we got into bed. I liked it up until…until he put his fingers in me. It hurt.”

Starsky’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything, waiting. Hutch was quiet for a few heartbeats and then he continued. “I told him to stop, but he just put more fingers in.” He took a deep breath. “Then he put his prick in me. I asked him to please stop…told him it hurt. He hadn’t used any more lubrication. He didn’t listen…” Hutch hesitated, closed his eyes as if warding off the memory. “When he finally finished and moved away from me, he acted surprised that I was leaving. He came after me, and I punched him. I just walked away. I walked for a long time until I finally saw a bar, where I called a cab.”

“Did you try to call _me_?” Starsky asked.

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

Hutch’s answer was barely audible. “You know why.”

“No, I don’t know, Hutch. There ain’t no reason on this earth why you can’t call me if you need help. I’m serious, the next time you need me, you damn well better call me!”

The room was silent for long moments while Starsky tried to calm his heart rate and his rising anger. Finally, when he felt like he could handle it, he crawled up on the bed until he lay facing Hutch.

“This wasn’t your fault,” he said, knowing how his partner’s mind worked.

Hutch bit his lip, hard.

“Look at me, Hutch.” When Hutch met his gaze, his blue eyes awash with tears, Starsky repeated, “This wasn’t your fault. He went too fast…and he shoulda stopped when you said.”

Hutch took a deep breath. “I feel like it’s my fault…for wanting it in the first place. Like it’s a punishment, or something. When—when you didn’t want me, I should’ve just accepted that, not gone looking for something somewhere else. And I acted like I wanted to—but when it came down to it, I kept thinking about…how I wanted it to be you. I deserved it.”

“Aw, Babe…” Starsky put his hand against Hutch’s cheek. “You don’t deserve anything bad happening to you. And it’s not that I didn’t want you…”

Humiliated, Hutch pulled into himself, closed himself off. It felt like a door shutting in Starsky’s face. “I think I’m just going to sleep now, Starsk,” he said distantly. “You can go on home.”

Starsky hesitated, then reluctantly got off the bed, knowing how stubborn his partner could be. He pulled the covers up over Hutch and rested his hand on his head for a moment before leaving.

All the way home, Starsky fumed about what he wanted to do to Leo when he saw him. It was difficult to reign in his anger to a manageable level. Not only did that motherfucker go after Hutch after Starsky had explicitly told him to leave him alone, but he had forced him to…Starsky couldn’t even think about it. He’d hurt Hutch, and Starsky couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ tolerate that. He hated Leo with every molecule of his being---and Lord help the man when he got hold of him!

When Starsky reached his apartment, he was angry enough to do the man some real bodily harm, but there wasn’t a trace of Leo left there. He had evidently known better than to stick around.

***

Starsky couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Leo kissing Hutch, touching Hutch, hurting Hutch. When it was almost daylight, he fell into a light doze and dreamed.

_He stood over the bed, looking down on his sleeping partner. Hutch was nude, his long, lean body spread over the dark sheets, his hair white against the pillow. Suddenly, his blue eyes opened, piercing Starsky’s heart._

_“You want me, don’t you, David?” he asked, his voice silky, the sound of his given name on his partner’s lips a strong aphrodisiac in itself. And Starsky did want him, more than he’d ever wanted anyone._

_His own clothes disappeared, and he climbed onto the bed, feeling the silk of the sheets against his bare skin. When Hutch pulled him against his own nude body, shivers ran from the soles of his feet all the way to the top of his head, and he thought he’d die on the spot. Longing, deep and pure and true overtook him, and he pulled Hutch close, covering his mouth with his, feeling heat and wetness, and the gentle slide of his partner’s tongue against his own. Sounds of their pleasure filled the room as their bodies slid against one another. And then Hutch turned over onto his stomach. “I want you. Please do it, David.”_

_Starsky shook with the force of his desire. He wanted to be gentle, but suddenly it was as if a demon took over. He entered him hard and fast, and Hutch cried out. The scene changed, and they were no longer in bed, but in the swelteringly hot jungle. Starsky could feel the dirt beneath his knees as he plunged into his partner over and over, his fingers on the pale hips bruising the skin. Hutch begged him to stop, but Starsky couldn’t, wouldn’t. Driven by a powerful instinct to overtake and consume, he shoved deeper, harder, ignoring his partner’s pleas and shouts of pain, driving to completion. When he came, he pulled out and left Hutch sobbing on the hard ground. He stood up and walked away, joining his platoon, his eyes meeting Leo’s approving gaze. “Good work, soldier,” Leo said as they moved away._

Starsky awoke, his face wet with tears. He turned over, his hand landing in the stickiness on his abdomen. He felt dirty and small for getting off on a dream like that. Reaching over, he turned on the bedside lamp, blinking at the light. He was shaking hard, and repressed the urge to vomit. He tried unsuccessfully to dispel the image of Hutch lying broken and sobbing on the ground, a victim of Starsky’s own lust. Hutch didn’t belong there in that setting. He wished he could erase the image from his mind. Taking a deep breath and glancing at the clock, he realized that it was past time to get up for work.  He and Hutch had a three day weekend coming up, but first they had to get through the day ahead of them. He wanted to help his partner in some way, and as he showered and shaved, he thought about it, wondering what he could possibly do or say. Hutch’s words- _You didn’t want me and I should’ve accepted that--_ kept playing in his mind, torturing him. After the dream he’d had last night, he realized there were some things he needed to really think about before he managed to hurt or confuse his partner further.

When Starsky arrived at Metro, Hutch wasn’t at his desk, even though Starsky was a good fifteen minutes late. Dobey stuck his head out of his office. Starsky didn’t know how his superior did it, but he always seemed to know when he arrived, especially when he was tardy.

“Starsky! You’re late!”

“Sorry, Cap’n. Traffic. Do you know where Hutch is?”

“Called in sick. I want you to pull the Chapman case and go over the details before it goes to court.”

“Okay, will do,” Starsky said, and frowned after Dobey shut the door. Picking up the phone, he dialed Hutch’s number. It rang eleven times before he finally gave up. Hutch evidently didn’t want to talk to him. With a sigh, he started to head for Records, then remembered that his partner had recently been reviewing the Chapman file at his desk.

Walking around to his side of the table, Starsky pulled open the drawer and immediately spotted the blue folder. He took it out, knocking something to the floor. Bending, he picked up an open envelope and a brochure that had slid out from inside of it. Straightening, he looked at it closely. It advertised a place up in the mountains. On impulse, he tucked it into his pocket to look at later.

At lunch, after trying multiple times to get a hold of his partner on the phone, Starsky drove to Venice Place. Worried, he knew he would be useless the rest of the day if he didn’t make sure that Hutch was all right.

When there was no answer to his knock, Starsky used his key.

“Hutch?” He walked into the darkened apartment. “Buddy? Where are you?”

Not finding Hutch in the bedroom or bathroom, Starsky was about to leave when movement in the greenhouse alerted him to his partner’s whereabouts. He found Hutch sitting on the floor among several smashed potted plants, wearing only his pajama bottoms.

“Buddy? You okay?”

Hutch looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and tired. Starsky felt his heart squeeze, and moved forward to kneel beside him. “Why don’t you come on into the living room and I’ll get you something for lunch?” He held out his hand and Hutch took it, allowing Starsky to pull him into a standing position. Hutch teetered a little and Starsky grasped him around the waist. “Have you eaten at all today?”

Hutch shook his head. Maneuvering him into the living room, Starsky deposited him on the couch. “I’ll rustle us up some sandwiches.”

In the kitchen, Starsky hummed a tune he had just heard on the radio, trying to inject a little levity into the atmosphere. Hutch’s withdrawn behavior and depressed attitude had him worried. As quickly as possible, he put a couple of sandwiches together, grabbed cokes from the refrigerator, and headed back to his partner. Sitting beside him on the couch, he handed Hutch a plate. “Eat up,” he directed, and Hutch did, albeit rather mechanically.

“Hutch, you gotta snap out of this,” Starsky said between bites. “I understand you callin’ in sick after what you’ve been through, but I hate to see you sitting here in a fog.” He chewed for a moment, watching the blond’s face, which remained unreadable.

On impulse, Starsky took the brochure out of his pocket. “I found this in your desk when I was getting the Chapman file. Looks like a nice place.”

Hutch’s gaze fell upon the colorful pamphlet. His expression changed to something resembling sadness, and it hurt Starsky’s heart. “Were you plannin’ on going to Big Bear?” he asked gently.

Hutch looked off to the side. “It was a surprise,” he said, his voice hoarse from disuse. “I'd made reservations for us to go this weekend.”

“Really?” Starsky looked at the brochure again. “Sounds like fun. When’re we leavin’?”

Hutch leaned back on the couch. “We aren’t.”

“Come on, Hutch! This is a terrific surprise. I’d love to go! Were you planning on us leaving tomorrow?”

“I can’t, Starsk,” Hutch said.

“Sure you can. We’re goin’. In fact, I’ll come over tonight after work so we can leave early. How’s that sound?”

Hutch shrugged. Starsky made him eat the rest of his sandwich, talking about the brochure the whole time. He thought this was a perfect opportunity for Hutch to get his mind off his troubles, and for Starsky to do some deep thinking of his own. More than anything, Starsky wanted to take that dejected look off his partner’s face, and he wanted things to get back to normal.

He arrived about ten o’clock that night, suitcase in hand. Hutch was watering his plants, but not looking a heck of a lot more energetic than he had been that afternoon.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea, Starsk,” Hutch said, setting the watering can on the table.

“Sure it is. Anytime we can get away from all the smog and crime is a good thing. What time you wanna leave in the morning?”

“It’s about a two hour drive,” Hutch said, looking more exhausted than Starsky had ever seen him.

“’K, so we don’t have to get up real early. Maybe leave about eight?”

“Sure,” Hutch agreed.

“Didn’t you sleep at all last night, Babe?” he asked softly.

“A little,” Hutch answered tiredly, not meeting his friend’s eyes.

“Well, I’ll just camp out here on the couch,” Starsky started stripping off his clothing. Hutch crossed to the closet and took out the pillow and blanket he kept in there for his partner.

“Thanks, Buddy,” Starsky said as he handed them to him.

Hutch smiled slightly and went into the bedroom. As Starsky settled himself of the couch and turned off the lamp, he could hear Hutch in the bathroom showering. He heard the bathroom door open and then the squeak of Hutch’s bed as he got into it.

Starsky’s thoughts turned to Leo. It infuriated him to think of Leo manhandling his gentle partner. Oh, he knew Hutch was tough, but in matters of the heart, he was as sweet as they came. Anyone lucky enough to be in bed with him should treat him as he deserved to be treated. Recalling the dream he’d had the night before, Starsky was ashamed, especially when he felt himself responding to the memory of it. If he were to take Hutch to bed, it wouldn’t be like that at all. His touch would be light and loving as he showed him how very much he…

He cut the thought short.

Propping his head on his arm, he stared at the ceiling, listening to his partner attempting to find a comfortable position in the bed. In the dream, the way Leo had looked at him and said, “Good job, soldier,” gave Starsky the chills. Was his subconscious trying to tell him that if he were to take his partner to bed, he would be no better than Leo?

Rubbing his eyes, he reminded himself that he’d made his decision a long time ago that he was straight and going to remain straight. He was still young enough to find a special lady, settle down, and have kids. That’s what a guy was supposed to do, and he wished that Hutch still wanted that for himself. The thought of Hutch with another man didn’t sit well with him, and he honestly wasn’t sure if that was because it wasn’t in Hutch’s best interests, or if Starsky was simply jealous. There was also the fact that the gay life was a difficult road, and being cops made it all the more so. He saw no reason for either one of them to willingly take on that kind of hardship in their lives. But was Huggy right?  One day when they weren’t cops anymore, if they didn’t turn to each other, would they drift apart and get married?

Unable and unwilling to imagine a life without his partner, Starsky blanked out his mind and slowly drifted off to sleep. He awoke a few times in the night and thought he heard Hutch moving about his bedroom, but his eyes became so heavy that he quickly drifted off again. When the alarm in Hutch’s room went off, he was jolted out of the deepest sleep he’d been in all night.

When he exited the bathroom, he found Hutch dressed and already making coffee. “Well, I see you’re on the ball. Just let me get my stuff together.”

By 8:15 they were gassed up and on the road. Hutch was silent during most of the drive, staring pensively out the window and answering all of Starsky’s questions with grunts and shrugs. Starsky knew he had his work cut out for him. He glanced at his partner’s lithe form, slouched in the seat beside him, his long legs bent and his blond head resting against the window. The expression on his face was neutral. He was wearing tan corduroys and a shirt the exact shade of blue as his eyes. When he turned and looked at him, Starsky wanted to dive in those gorgeous pools and do the backstroke. He chuckled at the thought before giving himself a mental slap. He couldn’t afford to be thinking like that, not if he was going to stick to his guns and straighten both himself and his partner out.

They made good time to Big Bear, stopping for groceries when they drew close to the village. Hutch read the signs and directed them to their cabin. Starsky was impressed with what a nice set-up it was, and reminded himself to offer to split expenses with Hutch. There was only one bedroom with a king size bed, but the couch looked comfortable enough.

“Hutch, this is really great. You really went all out. How come you didn’t tell me about these plans?”

Hutch leaned against the window frame and stared out at the gorgeous view of the lake. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he said, a note of sadness in his voice. Starsky approached him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, I’m surprised, alright. This is terrific, partner.”

“Starsky…” Hutch started to say something and then whispered, “Never mind.”

Starsky explored the cabin, and then asked, “Well, what do ya wanna do first? Go for a walk? Rent some bikes? You wanna get a canoe and go out on the lake?”

Hutch shrugged for about the millionth time that day, and frustration at not being able to help his partner made Starsky snap at him. “For Pete’s sake, Hutch, I wanna help you, but you’re not making it easy for me! Could you try to do a little more than shrug?”

Hutch met his gaze and the far-away look dissipated. Starsky could almost see the wheels turning as his partner came to a decision. Straightening his shoulders, he said, “Okay. Let’s take a walk.”

Starsky grinned, happy to see a change for the better. “Great!”

They headed out on one of the many trails in the area, and Starsky could see in the way his partner’s shoulders loosened up and the tightness in his expression disappeared, that Hutch’s innate love of nature was having a positive effect on him.

As they got deeper into the forest, they began to see more creatures. “Hey, Hutch!” Starsky put a hand on the blond’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Lookit that lizard!”

Hutch turned his head in the direction Starsky was pointing and searched, finally spotting a tannish lizard with a thick neck sunning itself on a log. “I think that’s called a Western Fence Lizard,” Hutch whispered, as if the amphibian might leave if he said it any louder. Which, for all Starsky knew, it might.

“I knew you’d know what it was,” Starsky praised. “You know everything about what’s in the woods.”

“Not everything,” Hutch protested modestly. “I just like to read up on stuff like that.”

“Look at the long nails it’s got!” Starsky enthused.

Hutch looked at him, eyebrow raised. “You want me to try to catch it so you can see it better?” Starsky pulled back and shuddered. “Hell, no!”

Hutch laughed. “Are you sure? Sometimes the males have a blue belly—it’s kind of neat looking.”

“I’m positive,” Starsky said, casting a suspicious eye at the lizard before they continued walking.

A few yards up the path, Starsky plucked a leaf off a tree in passing, then suddenly dropped it on the ground. “Ew--bugs!”

Hutch stopped and picked up the leaf, twirling it slowly between his finger and thumb and studying the insects on it. “Those are spider beetles, Starsk. They’re really quite interesting. I’m glad you didn’t kill them.”

Starsky watched his partner’s thoughtful face as he examined the ugly bugs. It always amazed him that he took such care with everything around him—even tiny unattractive things like spider beetles. He watched him set the insects on another leaf high in the tree, and looked away, suddenly touched beyond measure by his caring friend.

They walked for a long time, the sun high in the sky. Squirrels chattered in the trees around them, and occasionally something darted among the underbrush near their feet. Starsky’s stomach was beginning to growl for lunch when a couple of ladies appeared ahead of them, walking in the opposite direction. The brunette smiled and waved at them as her taller companion bent down to tie her shoe.

“Hi!” she greeted them.

“Hello there,” Starsky answered, putting on his best flirtatious smile. Hutch smiled, also, and said hello.

“My name’s Debbie and this is Sabra. Are you two staying here?” Sabra straightened up and smiled shyly. She had auburn hair and a dusting of freckles. Both women were attractive and obviously interested.

“I’m Dave and this is Ken. Yeah, we have a cabin for a coupla nights. You?”

“We leave tomorrow,” Sabra said. “Have you tried the zip wire? It’s a lot of fun. And there’s a disco in town.”

“Sounds terrific,” Starsky said. “You two going tonight?”

The girls looked at each other. “We were thinking about it,” Debbie answered. “You two?”

“We just might. Maybe we’ll see you there.” They moved off, turning to watch the girls as they walked away.

“And you’re willing to give up all that for a guy?” Starsky asked, then immediately wanted to swallow his tongue. “Shit, Hutch, I’m sorry.”

Hutch swung around and started walking, his pace triple what it had been before.

“Hutch,” Starsky hurried to catch up. “I didn’t mean it.”

Hutch turned on him, his face angry. “Yes you _did_ mean it, Starsky, and before you get any ideas, you are perfectly welcome to go to the disco tonight and dance until you drop with those girls, but I’m not going.” He pointed his finger at Starsky’s chest. “When I said I was through with women, I meant it.” He turned and walked away, then swung back around, almost making Starsky, who was following closely, trip over his own feet. “And another thing! You’ve already made it perfectly clear that you like women, you’re always going to like women, and you don’t want me! So could you please quit rubbing it in?” Hutch glared at his friend for a long moment before visibly deflating and walking away.

“Shit,” Starsky muttered to himself. “I’ve really done it now.”

Back at the cabin, Hutch went through the groceries they’d bought, searching for something to cook for dinner. Starsky headed for the shower, deciding to give Hutch a little time to cool off. By the sounds the knife was making on the cutting board, he evidently needed it. Starsky deeply regretted what he’d said, especially since it had hurt his already hurting partner. There was no way he was going to go that disco tonight and leave his friend there alone, although Hutch probably expected him to. He found he was right when Hutch looked at him in surprise as he re-entered the room in shorts and a T-shirt.

“You’re wearing that to go dancing?”

“’Course not. I’m not goin’ dancing,” Starsky answered, walking into the small kitchen and lifting the lid off the pot.

“Out of there! It won’t be done for at least thirty minutes,” Hutch admonished.

Starsky obediently replaced the lid, nabbed a couple of beers out of the refrigerator, and came to sit on the couch. He handed a beer and the bottle opener to Hutch.

“Starsk, why don’t you do us both a favor and go tonight. You could use the recreation, and I could use the time to think.” Hutch flipped the lid off and took a drink, tossing the opener back to his partner.

“You mean stew,” Starsky corrected, catching it and opening his bottle. “I don’t wanna go without you, Hutch. You’re what makes it fun. And I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“No, I’m sorry, Starsky. You have every right to feel the way you do.” Hutch looked at his lap.

“Hutch,” Starsky put his beer on the table. “I wanna clear up a few things.” He watched his partner’s back stiffen defensively. “Hey, come on! We can talk about anything, can’t we?”

Slowly, Hutch nodded his head, but he didn’t look up.

Starsky leaned back and flung an arm over the back of the couch. “First off, I wanna clear up this _me not wantin’ you_ thing. It’s not like that at all. Obviously, I have no aversions to being with another man, because I did that back in Nam. So there ain’t no way I couldn’t be attracted to you, Hutch, I mean, lookit you! If nothin’ else, I’ve always had good taste!”

Hutch lifted his head then, his face unreadable, his eyes veiled.

“So, you gotta believe me when I say that the real reason I don’t wanna start something between us is ‘cause I’m just afraid of a lot of stuff. I’m afraid of where it’ll take us, and what’ll happen when one of us meets someone we want to marry. And I’m afraid what’ll happen if people find out, especially at work. And I’m scared it will do something to the two of us---‘cause right now, nothin’s ever gonna change us being the best of friends. But if we were _lovers_ …hell, you know what happens to people in love. And then there’s the label we’ll have to live with the rest of our lives.”

Hutch swallowed. “Starsky, I’m not worried about labels, and I’ve given up on the whole idea of getting married.  I’ve been married, and I don’t even want kids anymore. But I can understand if you do.” He took a breath before he went on, hesitantly casting Starsky an almost shy look. “So…it’s not like it makes you sick thinking about being with me?” he clarified.

“Hell, no!” Starsky said emphatically. “Hutch, nothing about you could ever make me sick.”

Hutch smiled a little at that. “Can I ask you something, Starsky?”

“Anything.”

“Does it…always hurt like it did? Is it ever good?”

Starsky picked up his beer and took another drink, gaining time to consider his answer. “You gotta understand…my experience is a bit limited. It was always quick and never anything close to a caring situation. At first, it did hurt and it was kinda scary. But some of those guys were pretty experienced, and after a while, well, you get used to it… and you relax. And then it doesn’t hurt and it starts to actually…feel good.”

“Good like how?” Hutch asked, leaning forward in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Like…like…I dunno, you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

 Tilting his head, the afternoon light from the window highlighting his hair, Hutch asked, “How’s it different from being with a woman?”

Starsky leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, partly to give thought to the question, and partly so he didn’t have to look at that gorgeous hair and those beautiful blue eyes while he was talking about sex. “Well, there’s a difference between a strong man holding you and a little lady holding _onto_ you. You can be the weaker one if you want, which is weird but nice, too.”

Hutch gestured for him to go on. “And?”

Starsky thought a moment, allowing himself to delve into memories he’d not revisited for a long time.  
“I only kissed a guy once or twice. There’s a lot of aggression to it sometimes…and that can be a real turn on. And…and well, if you’ve ever been in a lady’s back door, you know there’s a whole other feel to that. It’s heady stuff---tight, hot. And, when a guy sucks you off, he knows what feels good and what don’t, when a woman hasn’t got a clue. That can make a big difference.” He looked up to find Hutch staring at him, lips parted. Starsky was pinned by the look, suddenly very aware of that wide mouth that he was positive would feel velvety smooth beneath his own. He suddenly wanted to kiss that mouth, and not the way he’d kissed those guys back in Vietnam.

After a moment, Hutch blinked rapidly, breaking the spell. He looked around the room a little sadly. “Wanna hear something pathetic? I booked this place a couple of weeks ago, Starsk. Because I thought we were headed for something together. I thought you knew how I felt and you felt the same way.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Pretty stupid, huh? I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all if you hadn’t found the brochure.”

As he spoke, Hutch stood up, crossed the room, and leaned against the frame of the large window that overlooked the lake.

Starsky swallowed. Hutch had booked the cabin as a romantic getaway for the two of them. He let that sink in, then got to his feet and went to stand behind him, lifting his hands and setting them on Hutch’s shoulders. He felt him tremble beneath his hands, and the feeling went straight to his groin. All that talk about having sex with men brought the memories back--memories that mingled with the here and now and the man standing before him. He had such strong and complicated feelings for his partner. With a sigh, he laid his head on Hutch’s back, feeling the heat emanating off him. “Aw, Hutch. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, Starsk. I just wanted you to know the truth. Now why don’t you get dressed and go out dancing. Have a good time. I want you to.” Hutch never turned around.

Instead, Starsky put his arms around Hutch’s waist and pulled him closer. His chin on his partner’s shoulder, he said, “I want you to think about something. Is it me you really want? Or are you maybe confused because of all the close time we’ve spent together since the shooting?”

Hutch laughed. “Starsk, I’m not a child. I know what I want and whom I love. Stop trying to cure me.” He turned around in Starsky’s arms and looked into his eyes. “I love you.” He raised a hand and ran it through Starsky’s hair, his palm caressing his ear. “God, Starsky…can’t…won’t you…” Hutch left the request unfinished. Bringing his hand down, he squeezed Starsky’s shoulder. “Go on. Go dancing.” He started to turn away, but Starsky stopped him. Putting a hand up to Hutch’s face, he held him still as he leaned in and kissed him on the mouth.

Hutch tried to remain motionless, even though the feel of his partner’s mouth on his burned him to his soul. He was afraid to move, but he couldn’t help but raise his hand and put it gently on the other man’s waist. Starsky’s lips moved over his, gentle and warm. It felt like no kiss Hutch had ever experienced before. He wanted more, much more, but he was painfully aware that his partner would do anything for him. Starsky had laid out all his reasons for not wanting to take their relationship in this direction, and Hutch was going to respect that. Using every bit of love he had for his partner to fortify him, he pulled back and took a step away. Starsky’s eyes showed confusion and something else Hutch couldn’t read.

Hutch smiled, a real smile. “Go dancing, partner. Please. I’m going for a run. Then I’ll take a shower, and maybe read a book for a while. You go out and have fun. For me?”

Starsky’s tongue came out and licked his lips, tasting Hutch there. He started to say something and then stopped. Instead, he went into the bedroom and changed clothes. When he came out, Hutch had ladled soup into two bowls. “Come eat a bite before you go,” he said, taking a seat at the table. Starsky joined him. They ate in silence, Hutch looking out at the sun dipping behind the trees, and Starsky looking at Hutch. Suddenly Hutch turned to his partner, his eyes soft. “If you don’t come back tonight, I won’t worry.”

Starsky shook his head. “I’m coming back. I came here to be with you, you know.”

Hutch smiled. “I know. But if you decide to stay out—with the girls--, I won’t worry and I won’t be mad.”

They finished the soup and Starsky got up to go. “Hutch…” he said from the door.

“Yeah, buddy,” Hutch stood rinsing the bowls in the sink. He didn’t turn to look at his friend.

“I love ya, pal. You gotta know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Starsky left.

***

The discotheque was crowded and smoky. Sabra and Debbie were disappointed that Hutch didn’t come, but they soon contented themselves with lavishing all their attention on Starsky.  A couple of years ago, Starsky would have loved it. Might even have taken them both home and slept with them at the same time. Scratch that, Hutch would’ve been with him, and they both would have taken them to bed. The memory of that motel room and the girl, Nancy, sucking off Hutch, and Hutch’s eyes meeting his as he came—precipitating Starsky’s own orgasm—suddenly flashed before his eyes, and he had to adjust himself in his tight jeans under cover of the table. And that kiss they’d shared…

Starsky had had to get out of there. He’d had to get away from all that blond perfection, but now that he was away, he just wanted to go back again.

He wondered if he’d been a little harsh with Hutch, considering he’d technically been raped the other night. Thinking of what Leo had done started Starsky’s blood boiling. Sipping his beer, he realized that Debbie had said something to him, and he turned toward her.

“Sorry, what was that?” Leaning sideways in the booth, he ducked his head to hear her better. The music was so loud, he could feel the bass beating through the table. _Man, Hutch would really hate it here._

She leaned closer, pressing her small breasts into his arm as she spoke into his ear. He’d noticed immediately that she hadn’t worn a bra, but the knowledge wasn’t doing anything for him. “I said, a penny for your thoughts. You looked like you weren’t even in this universe,” Debbie pouted prettily.

“Oh. Sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Your sick friend?”

Starsky had told the girls that Hutch hadn’t come with him because he was feeling under the weather.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m a little worried about him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, but maybe we could all go try to cheer him up.” Debbie flipped her straight, dark hair off her bare shoulder and smiled seductively.

Starsky could only imagine what Hutch’s response would be to that. “Better not. He might be contagious.” He gave her a winning smile, realizing he hadn’t been the best company up to this point.

“Hey, I love this song. Let’s dance!” He pulled her out of her chair and onto the dance floor where Sabra was dancing with a short, stocky guy.

As he automatically moved his body to the beat, Starsky’s mind again wandered to the kiss he’d shared with Hutch. It had been a terrible mistake. That kiss had only made him want another, deeper one, just like he’d always known it would if he ever crossed that line with him. Now he had to find some way to backpedal and put it all behind them, and it wasn’t going to be easy. He looked at the girl he was dancing with. She was nice enough, and he felt some physical attraction to her. But he couldn’t imagine wanting to spend more time with her. He couldn’t imagine giving up a day or an evening with his partner to be with her. If he were honest with himself, he couldn’t think of a woman he knew that he wanted to be with in that way. The realization depressed him, and he wondered if he simply hadn’t been taking the time to get to know any one woman well enough. Ever since the attempt on his life, he’d spent his time strengthening existing relationships that he knew were important to him. Hutch. Huggy. His mother. Nick. Aunt Rosa and Uncle Al. Dobey and his family. Kiko and Molly. He hadn’t had any real desire to add to his circle of loved ones. Sure, he’d dated a little, but they were empty evenings that always ended up in the bedroom. He couldn’t fathom taking the time out of his life to build something more out of them.

During a break in the music, Debbie pulled Starsky into the alcove that housed the rest rooms and pressed herself against him. “Why don’t you kiss me, Dave?” she asked brazenly. She was a little tipsy. Obligingly, Starsky did so, but his mind remained elsewhere. He smelled her perfume and felt her small waist beneath his hands, but it was all wrong. He didn’t want her.

Around ten o’clock, Starsky decided he’d had enough. He bade the women goodnight, and made his exit. Debbie was obviously disappointed, but Starsky wasn’t in the mood for a one night stand, even with two girls. Face flushed and skin sweaty from dancing, Starsky rolled down the window so the cool night air could hit him. He wondered if Hutch was in bed reading. Starsky would offer to sleep on the couch, since Hutch’s back gave him a lot of problems, although he never complained about it. Of course, they could share the bed—it wouldn’t be the first time—but that probably wouldn’t be a good idea under the circumstances. Just the thought sent his heart racing.

The disco was located in a town just outside the village of Big Bear, only about a fifteen or twenty minute drive from their cabin. Starsky looked forward to a cool shower and bed. Finding that he was getting sleepy and the mountain air wasn’t helping to keep him awake, he turned on the radio, catching the end of an upbeat song. _Oh, won’t you take me to---Funky Town! Won’t you take me to---Funky Town._ He sang, wiggling his hips in the seat and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.As the song faded, a news report came on, and Starsky instantly became alert.

_\--A man was attacked and killed by a mountain lion this evening on one of Big Bear's hiking trails. This is the first fatal attack in California in the past two decades, and park officials are saying that the time of day combined with the fact that the man was running probably contributed to the attack, as mountain lions tend to hunt at dusk. Since it is unusual, although not unheard of, for the cats to take down such large prey, it is possible that it was protecting a cub in the vicinity. No word has been given on whether the body of the man had been partially consumed by the animal. Park rangers are searching for the big cat. The man’s identity is being withheld until relatives can be notified.--_

Starsky felt as though his heart had fallen out of his chest and been run over a mile down the road. Hands shaking, he had to pull over and take several deep breaths before he could go on driving. He was only a couple of miles from the entrance to the village. He felt physically ill.

 _“Maybe I’ll go for a run before I shower,”_ Hutch had said.

Hutch went for a run. In the evening. Oh, God, it could be some other guy out running the trails, couldn’t it? Surely Hutch wasn't the only nature-loving fool determined to run a godforsaken trail in the middle of nowhere, making himself easy prey for every carnivorous beast within a ten mile radius to pick off... Starsky had to keep going. Had to get to the cabin. Make sure it wasn’t Hutch. _God, don’t let it be Hutch. Please, please, please._

Why had he left his partner there alone? To go to a stupid disco to dance with two women he didn’t give a shit about? To prove that he was a man and could have a woman—hell, two women—and he didn’t want a man, didn’t want his partner, didn’t need his partner…

Starsky pulled back onto the road, almost in tears. He knew. He knew all along, always knew that it was Hutch he wanted to be with, wanted to spend all his time with, wanted in his bed, couldn’t live without. But no…he had to drive him away. Drive him straight into Leo’s arms, who’d raped him, took his virginity from him and didn’t even try to be careful or loving in doing it. And Starsky’d denied him again and again, even after he kissed him, he left for a night of meaningless dancing, and Hutch had told him to stay out if he wanted, always willing to sacrifice.

_Now why don’t you get dressed and go out dancing. Have a good time. I want you to. … if you decide to stay out—with the girls--, I won’t worry and I won’t be mad._

If Hutch was dead, it was all Starsky’s fault and he’d never forgive himself, never, as long as he lived.

Shaking, Starsky drove the last two miles through the village to the winding entrance that led to the cabins. Heart in his throat, blinded by tears, he made his way up the winding drive, passing darkened cabins, the sparkling reflection of the moon on the lake to his left. Stark, terrible fear had taken hold of him, and his body was ice cold, his mind trying to protect itself by blanking out. Blinking away the tears, he approached the cabin and pulled into the driveway. All was dark inside. Shouldn’t Hutch have a light on to read by? He told himself his partner would be asleep in the bed. All would be well. He climbed out of the car and approached the door, his hand shaking so hard that he dropped the key he’d pulled out of his pocket. Blindly, he searched for it on the darkened stoop. Wouldn’t Hutch have left the porch light on for him? All was silent except for the chirping of night insects. No television was on inside the cabin. No radio. No precious voice singing or talking to himself. Starsky’s hands made contact with the key and snatched it up, his right hand holding his left steady as he inserted it in the lock and turned, opening the door and shutting it behind him, leaning his quivering body against it, afraid of the silence, not wanting to know. Not able to bear not knowing.

“Hutch?” he called into the blackness. He groped for the light switch and turned it on, illuminating high ceilings and oak beams. Empty space, hollow rooms. Starsky stepped forward. “Hutch?” he called loudly. _He'll be asleep in the bed,_ Starsky reminded himself. Tripping into the bedroom, he found it pristine and empty, Hutch’s bag opened on the table, his running shoes missing.

Hand to his chest, Starsky stepped back and choked on his next breath. _Oh my God, oh my God, it was him. It was him. What do I do? Who can I call? How can I find out for sure?_ He stumbled toward the phone but didn’t know what to dial. _They said the man attacked is dead. It’s too late. Nothin’ I can do, even if I go to the hospital…or the morgue_. He had to know, though. Snatching up the phone, he dialed zero and reached the main desk.

“Yes, uh…I need some information. Uh, information on the man a-attacked by the mountain lion.”

 _“Sir, we can’t give out that information,”_ the woman’s voice replied crisply.

“Yeah, but my friend, he was gonna go running…I just got back to our cabin, and he’s not here. Do you have the name?”

_“Sir, like I said…”_

“Do you know the age or description of the man who was killed? Can you at least tell me _that_?” Starsky barked.

_“I’ll get my manager, he can explain that we can't...”_

“Shit!” Starsky slammed the phone down.

He clasped his stomach and ran for the living room. He’d go to the hospital, flash his badge. Make them tell him. Throwing open the front door, he headed out into the night and came face to face with his partner.

Both men stood, immobilized by surprise.

“Starsky?” Hutch finally said. “What’s the matter?” When Starsky didn’t answer, Hutch touched his arm. “Buddy? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Hutch was dressed in his running shorts, his gray sweatshirt with the arms cut out, and his running shoes. Starsky stood staring at him. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t believe he was looking at him and was half afraid that if he tried to touch him, he’d disappear. But Hutch’s hand was on his arm, feeling solid. Feeling real. Starsky sagged against him, clutching him tightly. Hutch’s hand came up and cradled the dark, curly head.

“What’s wrong, Pal? Tell me, please.” Hutch led him inside the cabin and shut the door.

Starsky was shaking. Hutch wrapped his arms around him and held him for a long time, whispering assurances into his ear until Starsky finally loosened his death grip on Hutch’s shirt.

“W-where were you, Hutch?” he asked hoarsely into his neck.

“I was down on the dock, looking at the moon shining on the lake.” Hutch rubbed his hand up and down his friend’s back. “Were you looking for me?”

Starsky laughed slightly hysterically, and Hutch’s arms tightened around him.

“You could say that.” After a moment, he continued quietly, “I heard a…a news bulletin on my way back here from the disco. They said a man had been killed—out for a run on one of the trails. Attacked by a mountain lion…maybe half-eaten!” Starsky shuddered, the mental image he’d had the moment he’d heard that part still haunting him.

He could hear Hutch breathing against his cheek. He tightened his hold on his shirt, not wanting to let him go, some part of his mind wondering if this was all real. Had his mind fragmented when he realized Hutch was missing? Was he really gone? Was he holding Hutch’s ghost or his mind’s conjured image of him? He shuddered, knowing he was thinking crazy, but he couldn’t help it. He’d been so terrified.

“God, that’s awful,” Hutch whispered. “I didn’t know…I did hear sirens earlier. I’m sorry, Starsk, that you were worried.”

Leave it to Hutch to apologize for something he had absolutely no control over.

Starsky took a breath and looked at him, his eyes taking in every facet of his face. “God, Hutch, I was so scared!” He reached up and ran his hands down his cheeks. “It’s really you, isn’t it? You’re not some…ghost?”

Hutch laughed then. “No, Starsky, I am definitely not a ghost.” He stepped back, but Starsky went with him, unwilling to let go of his shirt. Hutch reached up and gently disentangled his partner’s hands. “It’s okay, Starsk. I’m okay. You can let go.”

Starsky bit his lip and put his hands to his sides, but watched Hutch as he moved across the room. “Where’re you goin’?”

“I need a shower,” Hutch replied. “or maybe I’ll try the Jacuzzi.”

Starsky followed him, watching as he fiddled with the buttons in the bathroom. The sound of the Jacuzzi starting up split the silence, causing Starsky to jump.

“It’s _okay_ ,” Hutch said, grasping his arm. “Why don’t you get ready for bed?”

Hutch pulled his sweat shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor, then stepped out of his shoes and shorts. He sat on the closed commode and took off his socks. When he realized Starsky was still standing in the doorway, he stood and moved toward him. Looking deeply into his eyes, he said, “Babe, I’m here. It wasn’t me. You can relax now.” His voice was soft and firm, and it calmed Starsky’s fraught nerves. His shoulders slumped. Hutch smiled a tender smile and turned away, slipping out of his briefs and stepping into the Jacuzzi.

“Did you have a good time?” Hutch asked when he was seated. “At the disco?” he clarified, when Starsky looked confused.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” He walked forward and sat on the commode lid. “No, not really,” he admitted. “The dancing was okay, but the company wasn’t so great.”

Hutch lifted a brow. “Didn’t score, huh?”

Starsky ran his hands over his face. “Didn’t wanna score.” He stood up and turned on the separate shower in the corner of the room. Quickly shedding his clothes, he stepped under the spray and closed the glass door. Relief, all-consuming and powerful, washed over him in waves. _Hutch is alive. He’s alive. He’s alive._ The words kept repeating over and over in his mind as he washed the smoke and the sweat off his body. He shampooed his hair and turned the water off, standing for a moment, trying to get his bearings. When he stepped out of the shower, he saw Hutch reclining in the Jacuzzi, his eyes closed, looking so peaceful and beautiful. Love, strong and pure, filled Starsky to the brim.

Grabbing a towel, he dried off. “Mind if we both take the bed, Babe?” Starsky asked on the way out of the bathroom, leaving Hutch no time to reply. When his partner entered the bedroom a quarter of an hour later, Starsky was already ensconced on one side of the bed. The lights were off, and Starsky had opened the drapes, exposing the beautiful view of the lake sparkling in the moonlight. Hutch stood uncertainly, his towel around his waist. “You think it’s really a good idea for us to sleep together, Starsk?” he asked softly. “Maybe I’ll just take the couch.”

Starsky was up on his knees in a shot. “No! Hutch---I need you with me tonight. Please.” He swallowed. “If you won’t…then I’ll get on the couch. You have a bad back.”

Hutch sat down on the edge of the bed. “I know you’ve had a scare, Starsk, but I don’t know if I can handle this.” He sighed, “Let me just get some underwear.”

Starsky put out his hand. “Don’t,” he said softly.

“Starsk…”

“Shh…it’s okay.” Starsky lay down next to Hutch, maneuvering the towel his friend had around his waist out from under him and tossing it to the floor. Then he pulled the sheet and big comforter up over them.

“I was really scared," he whispered from his side of the bed. “I mean, you said you were going running, and it was evening…and that report said a man who was out running was attacked…”

“Another man, Starsk, not me,” Hutch put in quietly.

“I know that. But—it coulda been you. I thought it was you when I got here and nobody was around.”

“I’m sorry—“

Starsky reached out and put a hand on Hutch’s mouth to stop him.

“I felt empty. I suddenly imagined my whole life without you, and it was unbearable! I’d pretty much already come to the conclusion that I’d rather spend time with you than anyone else in this world, and then to find out you’d been taken away from me!” Starsky’s voice was hoarse with emotion. Hutch reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Starsky, I’m right _here_! I haven’t been taken away from you.”

“That’s my point!” Starsky scooted closer to him in the bed until he was leaning over him, his broad, muscular back curved like a question mark. “Touch me, Hutch.”

“Starsky, I—“

“Touch me, please!” Starsky insisted, and Hutch tentatively reached up his right hand and placed it on Starsky’s bare shoulder, running it over the smooth muscle and collarbone then down his arm to his hand. Starsky shuddered.

“Don’t do this to me,” Hutch pleaded, taking his hand away. “Don’t tease me.”

Starsky reached out and ran the fingers of his left hand down Hutch’s chest, from the base of his neck to his navel and then back again.

“Why are you doing this?” Hutch sounded as though he were in pain.

“I’m not tryin’ to tease you. I-I just want to be with you.” He shook his head. “I’m so confused. When we kissed earlier…I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

Hutch rose up on his elbow and looked at his friend’s face, searching. Seeming to find what he was looking for, he leaned in and kissed Starsky’s mouth, softly, gently, pulling away after only a few, brief seconds of contact.

“When Leo hurt you,” Starsky whispered, “I wanted to kill him, and I wanted to kill myself for sending you to him. I shoulda been your first, Hutch. I woulda made it so good.”

Hutch frowned. “You didn’t want…I mean, you want to have—“ He stopped, thoroughly mixed up. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling.

Starsky leaned over him again. “Will you let me touch you?”

Hutch watched him for a moment, then nodded.

Gently, slowly, Starsky touched Hutch’s face with a fingertip, tracing his eyebrows and down his cheek while his partner’s blue eyes watched him uncertainly. Once again, Starsky ran his hand down Hutch’s chest and stomach, and this time he didn’t stop at his navel. His eyes meeting Hutch’s, his hand dipped under the comforter and found his partner’s cock. Nestled in his hand, it quickly tripled in size. Hutch gasped and arched his back, his eyes closing.

“You’re so beautiful, Babe. God, I love you,” Starsky whispered, meaning every word.

Hutch’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at Starsky in amazement. As his fingers moved over him, Starsky leaned down and kissed Hutch deeply, his tongue filling his mouth. Groaning, Hutch reached up and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him down on top of him, their bodies molding together.

Starsky was breathing hard when he pulled away. He sprinkled tiny kisses all over Hutch’s face. “How stupid I was to think that gender was a good reason to keep me away from the love of my life,” he said solemnly, looking into Hutch’s eyes, which immediately filled with tears. “Aw, don’t cry, Babe. Things are gonna be better from here on out. Trust me.” He kissed him again. Pushing up onto his arms, he thought a moment. “Don’t move; I’ll be right back.”

Starsky moved to his suitcase and rummaged around in it until he found what he was looking for. “Lucky thing I prefer Vaseline to Chapstick,” he chuckled. When Hutch’s eyes widened, he hastened to add, “Don’t worry, Buddy. I’m gonna be on the receiving end tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.” Crawling back on the bed, Starsky lay down. Screwing the lid off the tube, he looked at Hutch. “Now, it’s been a while. I figure we can do this one of two ways. I can either go in the bathroom and see if I can stretch myself out a little, or you can do it for me.” He raised his brows and watched Hutch swallow.

Rising to his knees, Hutch took the tube from Starsky. Putting a liberal amount on his finger, he reached down and, when Starsky lifted his knees and spread his legs wide, he moistened the area. “That’s right, that’s good,” Starsky sighed. “Now, inside.”

Gingerly, remembering how awful it had been for him with Leo, Hutch inserted his finger, pushing it in just a little. “It’s okay, Hutch. Deeper.”

Hutch slid it all the way in, watching Starsky’s face the whole while. He pulled his finger out, put more petroleum jelly on, and inserted two fingers together. He couldn’t believe Starsky wasn’t crying out in pain as he had done when Leo had entered him with his fingers. Starsky’s lips were pressed together, but he didn’t seem particularly uncomfortable at the intrusion. “Move them around, Buddy, yeah, like that. Kinda scissor ‘em. That’s right.” Starsky closed his eyes and actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Hutch’s eyes ducked lower and watched with amazement as Starsky’s prick grew in size, sliding up his abdomen like a thick snake. His heart skipping a beat, Hutch leaned forward and swiped his tongue over the hardening phallus. Starsky groaned low. Emboldened, Hutch continued to lick as he inserted a third finger inside his partner and moved the trio in and out, curving the digits on each swipe downward. To his delight, Starsky moaned and began to move his hips. With his free hand, Hutch took Starsky’s cock and slid it all the way into his mouth. Starsky came off the bed with a cry and began rocking back on Hutch’s fingers and then forward into Hutch’s mouth, cursing between groans of pleasure. With difficulty, he grabbed hold of Hutch’s head, stilling him, and pulled away.

“Lie down on your back,” he directed, breathing hard. He watched Hutch recline on the bed, desire for his partner consuming him.  A fine sheen of sweat covered Starsky’s body as he rose up and positioned himself over the blond. Taking the tube, he applied a thick rope of Vaseline to his hand and stroked Hutch’s throbbing cock. Hutch breathed hard at the touch, his eyes widening as he watched his partner slowly lower himself onto him. “Oh my God, Starsky!” he cried as the excruciatingly slow descent sheathed him in pure, velvet heat. Starsky met his eyes and smiled mischievously. “Hold on, partner. Gonna ride you like there ain't no tomorrow.” He began to undulate his hips, rocking back and forth, moving side to side, until Hutch was breathing hard, frantically humping, pulling Starsky onto him by his hips. “Oh, yeah,” Starsky breathed and then cried out as Hutch shifted, and he felt a bolt of electric fire flash through him. “Hutch!”

“Starsky, I love you,” Hutch groaned, pushing himself farther into him, moving with quicker strokes, taking over control from his partner. Starsky leaned back and pressed his palms to the mattress to keep himself from toppling as he was thoroughly and deliciously fucked by the man he loved. He was out of his mind with desire, the feeling of being owned by this man meaning more to him than he could ever have imagined. Looking down at his partner lying beneath him, his pale skin dewy with sweat, made him harder than granite, his cock moving forward of its own volition. Through his haze of desire, Hutch saw and took it in his hand, stropping it to the rhythm of their sex.

Starsky shouted, looking down to watch the ecstasy overtake Hutch’s face as he neared the pinnacle and feeling his own testicles tighten alarmingly with the thrill of his own oncoming orgasm. “Aaaahh!” He yelled, shooting semen onto Hutch’s chest in spurt after thick spurt. Hutch arched his back and cried out, his eyes squeezing shut and his hips arching forward as he emptied himself inside his partner. Starsky collapsed sideways, and when Hutch slipped out of him, he rolled onto his back, breathing hard.

“Oh, man!” he gasped. “Man, oh man.” Lights flashed behind Starsky’s closed eyelids as residual tremors moved through him. He hadn’t had an orgasm like that in he didn’t know how long. He thought maybe never.

Hutch smiled and then began to laugh. He couldn’t help it; he was so happy. He cast a look at his exhausted partner, who turned and smiled back at him. “What’re you laughin’ at, you goof?”

Hutch shook his head reverently, his laughter settling into a besotted smile. “I don’t know. Starsk, that was so….” He just didn’t have the words, and shook his head again.

“You liked it, huh?”

“Yeah, I liked it. I loved it! I love _you_!” He reached over and pulled Starsky to him, kissing him for all he was worth. They held each other close until their pulses slowed and their breathing steadied.

“There’s so many things I wanna do with you, to you,” Starsky murmured in Hutch’s ear, his tongue coming out to tease the soft skin behind it. Hutch moved his head so that their lips met, moving over one another, tongues tasting. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” Hutch asked.

“Like…this,” Starsky moved his mouth to Hutch’s neck, torturing the sensitive muscles with his lips until Hutch moaned low in his throat. He moved his mouth lower to capture a nipple between his teeth, biting gently.

“Ooh, Starsky…” Hutch gasped. Starsky moved back to his ear. “And I wanna take your huge cock in my mouth and make love to it for as long as you can stand it, Babe.” He kissed each of Hutch’s eyelids. “And sometime, when you’ll let me, I wanna show you what it’s really like, Hutch. How good it can be. You could see I liked it, right?”

Hutch nodded, trying not to think of the pain that Leo had inflicted on him. He knew Starsky would never hurt him.

“And when you get to where you love it, Hutch, I wanna take you like this…” Starsky moved to his knees and gently lifted Hutch’s legs, putting them over his shoulders. “Yeah, I wanna hold onto these long legs and watch your face as I make love to you.” He ran his hands over Hutch’s calves and thighs, slowly, lingeringly.

Hutch’s eyes never left his lover’s face. “I want that, too, Starsky,” he said hoarsely.

“Good.” Starsky released his legs and leaned in for a long kiss. They pulled apart several times only to come back together, their lips claiming each other over and over again, unwilling to part. Finally, they spooned their bodies together and went to sleep.

The morning sun streaming into his eyes from the open drapes awoke Hutch several hours later. He blinked, wondering why he had so many blankets on him, before realizing the heavy weight that pinned his body to the mattress was actually his partner. One tanned arm covered in dark hair lay thrown over Hutch’s belly, effectively trapping him, along with the muscular leg that draped over his groin. Starsky’s head rested on Hutch’s shoulder, his hot breath tickling his neck. Tentatively, almost afraid he’d find it was all a dream, Hutch reached up with his right hand and touched Starsky’s arm, smoothing the skin and admiring the way the morning sun cast highlights on the hairs there. His erection lay nestled in Starsky’s bent knee, and experimentally, Hutch gave a little thrust, enjoying the feel of the damp, warm skin there. His partner grunted into his shoulder. When Starsky rolled over and started snoring, Hutch got up and took a shower.

An hour later he sat on the balcony wearing a pair of white tennis shorts, his legs propped on the railing. a cup of coffee in his hands. Morning sunlight sparkled on the lake, adding to the feeling that this was a brand new day---the first day of the rest of his life.

With a sigh, Hutch set the cup down and rubbed his face with his hands, reminding himself to be careful. Until last night, Starsky had been dead set against starting something between them. It had been the scare that had caused his partner to turn to him, and Hutch had been crazy to go along with it.

Crazy in love.

He could no more have rejected Starsky’s advances than he could have stopped his heart from beating. The memory of how he’d felt making love with his partner burned him with its intensity of feeling.

The door to the balcony opened and Starsky came out, naked as the day he was born. Hutch looked toward the lake. “Good thing there’re no boats out there, or they’d be getting an eyeful,” he said, turning and taking in his partner’s lean, muscular frame. “Don’t you think you’re a little under-dressed?”

“I think you’re a little over-dressed,” Starsky said, glancing at Hutch’s shorts with a lascivious look in his eyes. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“I think we need to have a talk.”

“Uh, oh.”

“What?”

“You’re over-thinking.” Starsky sat down in the chair next to him, picked Hutch’s cup off the floor, and took a sip of it. “Go ahead, let’s get this over with.”

“Starsk, less than twenty-four hours ago, you were dead set against the two of us getting physical. Then when you thought I might have died, your whole perspective changed. I really don’t know what to think.”

“Look, Hutch,” Starsky said, putting a hand on his leg. “You and me---we’re forever, no matter what. There’s no question about that. I already knew you were the most important person in my life, but my hang-ups wouldn’t allow me to get closer to you.” Starsky looked out toward the lake. “Those times in Nam…they were something I’d buried as part of that awful time in my life. Everything over there was tainted by the horror that went on every day. I worked hard to distance myself from all that after I came home.” He looked at Hutch again, his eyes shining. “But you—you’ve always been what’s right and good in my life. You’ve always been a light shinin’ on me, so I just couldn’t think of you that way. At least, I tried not to.” Starsky shook his head. “I don’t know if I’m even makin’ any sense. I’ve been so mixed up. All I know is that when we kissed--I wanted more. But I was still afraid. So I did like you asked and went to that disco, and I had a miserable time with a coupla girls I didn’t wanna be with instead of staying here with you and being happy. Then I heard that news broadcast and…oh God, Hutch. It scared the shit outta me.” He bit his lip, his eyes filling, “I ain’t never been that scared before. I just knew you were gone forever, and there’d be no second chance.”

Hutch watched his partner struggle to find the words to explain himself. It wasn’t easy, but it was something Hutch needed to hear. Starsky stood up and came to kneel between his partner’s legs, his hands resting on Hutch’s thighs. “Hutch, you’re everything to me,” he said sincerely. “I can’t make it without you. I don’t wanna be without you—ever. I don’t care who knows it. I don’t care if it makes me a fairy, or whatever the hell else people’ll want to call me. I just need to be with you. Please forgive me for taking so long and for making you feel like I didn’t want you. Believe me, nothing could be further from the truth.”

Hutch leaned down and pulled Starsky to him, rubbing his soft, bare back, feeling the sparse hairs that grew there. He kissed his head. “I just want you to be sure, Starsk.”

Starsky pulled away and looked into his eyes. “I’m sure. Positive, in fact. Now will ya come back to bed?”

Hutch laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Is that a yes?” Starsky looked down to see Hutch responding to him beneath the thin cotton of his shorts. “What the hell—we don’t need the bed.” Swiftly, he unzipped and pulled them down, revealing the long, hard phallus and the soft sack that hung below it. “You are beautiful, partner. So beautiful.” Bending, he slowly lapped at the tightening balls, feeling Hutch’s shiver through the palms of his hands resting on his thighs.

“Oh, Starsky….” Hutch moaned, pushing himself forward, watching the dark curly head bob over him as sensation after sensation washed through his body. Starsky played him like a precious instrument, loving him with his lips and tongue, making him cry out with desire. Hutch placed shaking hands in Starsky’s hair and petted, trying to convey his love with touch. His pelvis rocked, wanting more. Starsky ran his tongue up and around, and Hutch shuddered, closing his eyes as nirvana stole over him. With a sound close to a whimper, he came, pulsing ropes of semen shooting into Starsky’s greedy mouth. Starsky swallowed, withdrew, and kissed the spent cock before standing up. “Come on, Babe.”

Hutch rose on shaky legs, and, supported by his lover, went back to bed, putting his fears behind him and his hopes ahead.

 

_finis_

 

 


End file.
